


The Breaking of Thomas

by Visceralace



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Cops Don't Work That Way, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Has Issues, Kidnapping, M/M, Master/Pet, POV Alternating, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tord, Puppy Play, Serial Killer Tord, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Tord is His Own Warning, detective edd, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:13:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 37,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visceralace/pseuds/Visceralace
Summary: Edward Goode, Chief of Police, keeps a close eye on his city. He's spent a greater deal of his time tracking down Tord Lareson, one of the most infamous serial killers of his time. The so-called "Red Butcher" vanished before being captured, leaving behind an empty house- and apparently someone else.Edd finds Thomas, a young man who was unfortunate enough to become Tord's latest obsession. Edd has to find a path between helping Tom, finding Tord, and keeping Thomas safe from the man who wants to get his hands back on his precious pet.Every other chapter switches between the past (the breaking of Thomas) and the present (Edd's journey with Tom). Read the first "chapter" for more warnings/disclaimers.





	1. Disclaimers and Notes

**Author's Note:**

> If you're worried about being triggered by any topics that you feel may be brushed upon in the story, please do not read it. This is not a story for the faint of heart. Chapter 1 contains all disclaimers/notes.

 

 

 

 

 

# Disclaimer And Notes

More Possible Warnings:  
\--------------------------------------------------------------

  

Mention of Drug Abuse

Mention of Alcoholism

Dub-Con

Non-Con

Stockholm Syndrome

Conditioning 

Drugging Drinks

Stalking

Obsession

Unhealthy Relationships

Person Treated Like Dog

Unhealthy BDSM Etiquette

Unreliable POV's

Self-Harm  

 

 

 

 

 

Disclaimer:

\--------------------------------------------------------------

I, in no way, condone the actions shown in this work. I am not attempting to romanticize or praise any relationship that reflects the one of Tord and Thomas. When switching POV's, it will be written in the ideals of the character that is being explored, and not in ideals that match my own personal opinions or thoughts. This is a work of fiction. Any behavior mirrored from this work in real life is unacceptable.

Several dark themes are explored. Do not read this work if anything mentioned in the tags or above could upset you. If the fact that this sort of content exists upsets you, please simply move on from it. I'm not going to debate the morality of writing/sharing content such as this.

If you or someone you know is in a relationship that you might feel is abusive, please look at this site and/or contact the numbers available: http://www.thehotline.org/  
If you or someone you know has suicidal thoughts, or have intentions/feelings to harm yourself, please visit here and contact the numbers available: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

In no way do the characters used in my story reflect real life people. I do not support equating the characters here to the people they are based off of. 

I do not have anyone read over my works to check for grammar or spelling mistakes except for myself. My apologies in advance.

 

NSFW:

\--------------------------------------------------------------

If you're just looking for the porn bits, I'll list the scenes out here for you to jump to. They probably won't always make sense if you don't know the entire story, but hey, you go for it!

-Chapter 6 : Reaper Man (TomTord)

-Chapter 11: Free (EddTom)

-Chapter 12: Angry Sea (TomTord)

 

Playlist:

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Some songs I think go well with this fic, were used while I was writing for it, etc.

\- Any of the Mother Mother songs used for titles

 - An Unhealthy Obsession - The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra Original

 - Dixie Boy - April Smith and the Great Picture Show

 - Every Breath You Take (cover) - Chase Holfelder

 - Animal (cover) - Chase Holfelder

 - I Found - Amber Run

 - Unsteady - X Ambassadors 

 - My Way (cover) - Chase Holfelder

 - Arsonist's Lullaby - Hozier

 - I'll Be Good - Jaymes Young

 - Twisted - MISSIO

 - Panic Room - Au/Ra

 - Aftermath - Caravan Palace

\- Do It For Me - Rosenfield 

-Break My Heart Again - Finneas 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Update Information:

\--------------------------------------------------------------

This will be updated as often as I possibly can. There will not be a regular upload schedule, but please bear with me, as I am **not** going to leave this unfinished. I just update it when I'm struck with the urge to bust out a chapter.

This is my first story I'm sharing with others, so please excuse any lack of skill I have. Thank you for your patience, and for all of the kind words and comments I've received! 


	2. Dread In My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1- Dread In My Heart
> 
> Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the "first" chapter for Disclaimer, Update Information, and other tags/warnings.

>> Introduction<<

Edd let out a low sigh as he pulled his squad car up into the driveway of the now vacant home. It was almost comical how calm and serene everything seemed, slim street lights dotting the street like fallen stars, reminders of some sort of good in the surrounding shadows, the circumstances of it's emptiness.

Tord Lareson was quite possibly the serial killer of Edd's time. It had took upwards of five years to finally even pinpoint down a damn name. But even then, he failed. Tord had caught wind of his squad's arrival, and managed to vanish from his home before they even had a chance to capture him. That was three days ago. The worst part of it all was the fact that no one ever suspected him. He was so careful-- he was fully capable of functioning in every day society-- well-liked in this high-class area, and often visited by neighbors and traveling businessmen. It was no secret the best psychiatrists were itching to get some half-assed "interview" with him when he was finally behind bars.

If that were going to happen.

But for now, the highly exclusive neighborhood was simply covered with a soft hush, everyone shook to their core now that the truth was out. The sprawling lawns on the community kept the population of the neighborhood low, but that only made the wound of Tord's identity that much more intimate.

 

Edd was certain that in the end, they would find Tord-- he just wasn't sure how long it was going to take. It was clear that the man wasn't going to change his ways until he was in jail or dead. But he wasn't exactly known for being impulsive. He was patient, calculated, and highly intelligent.

>> Edd's POV <<

His home had been taped off and ready to investigate. It was scheduled to happen tomorrow; we'd been through hell and back trying to scrape together where he'd fled off to, so we'd pushed it back. I wasn't planning on making anyone come out here until then, but some kind old lady insisted she could not sleep knowing that "that poor dog is over there trapped and probably hungry."

At first we all thought she was senile-- Tord's profile wasn't the type to pick up a pet-- but it was possible he might have when he felt threatened to obtain some sense of normalcy. Many of the people had children, or at the very least a spouse, and Tord lived alone. With his youth and money, it could've helped him pass with less scrutiny of his neighbors. Not that many of them were complaining, with his extravagant parties and several donations to charities. Perhaps he even opted to pick up a dog for the protection, the warning of an approaching guest.

So here I was, on my damn night off, driving all the way up to this fuckers house to look for some pooch. And I had to admit I was only doing it because I had a soft spot for dogs. Leave it to some sociopath to leave the poor thing to fend for itself. And leave it to me to be unable to take a night off. Paul had basically given me no choice, insisting that I needed a breather in-between the chase and the house inspection. Tord and I had personal history, and he thrilled in mocking and teasing me over the years. Having him evade the closest I'd ever been to capturing him was a harsh blow.

I wished I could've just accepted the fact that the dog didn't exist. It couldn't have. I didn't want it to. I didn't want to go into the house.

Perhaps looking around to see any evidence of a dog elsewhere was sufficient. I poked around the side of the house, hauling myself up to peek over the privacy fence, noting in surprise a doghouse in the backyard. Two bowls were scattered next to it, haphazardly tossed about in the strong winds and storms we'd been experiencing. Either the dog had ditched, somehow making it over the tall fence or it was inside. Or dead. With a fence like this, I wasn't even sure how the old woman knew he had a dog. I suppose she would of had to see it at some point, right?

 

I hesitantly went up to the front door, and tried to convince myself that I wouldn't fall prey to the urge to profile. I was here to get a dog and head home. Then I could worry about all of this shit in the morning. I pulled on my gloves to keep the house uncontaminated, though we didn't even expect to find anything here. It seemed he did the murders elsewhere, and strung them up in the streets for everyone to see. Quite literally, they often were held up with wire, bodies cut, practically sculpted, to exquisite poses. The grotesque beauty was difficult for many of us to stomach, because one of the first words used to describe his...work, was indeed, beautiful. And the thought of people being turned into simply a medium, clay, stripped of all humanity, and turned into some sort of art installation was.. it was a sick irony. He was so damn clean, so astonishingly careful, I knew the house was going to come up useless. He wouldn't bring bodies or anything work-related into his home, with the amount of curious guests he had, and the parties he threw. I daresay he kept a close eye on his guests, but he wouldn't be so foolish as to let the possibility of a wandering eye give him away. But as the chief of the squad, I couldn't break code and set a bad example. Besides, Paul would chew me out if he found my own prints in the house. He was already going to tear into me for being here.

I unlocked the door with the key that I'd taken from the station, my hand trembling slightly. I opened the door, unsure of what to expect. A flurry of paws? Tord himself, emerging from the darkness of the home like the devil, materializing from the shadows to tear me into neat little pieces? A hand written note, a body, some other unspeakable horror gift wrapped for me in the entrance? It wouldn't be the first time he'd left something specifically picked out for me. Pushing out the panic and illogical train of thought, I reminded myself of the fact that it was simply unrealistic- and perhaps unsurprisingly, the home was....normal. It was very modern, and well-kept. Dark wood, marble, bookshelves, a large kitchen-- all tidily in place. I let out a low whistle as I stepped around the kitchen, glancing at notes scribbled on pieces of paper on the fridge. Nothing unusual. A grocery list. An appointment of some sort. When I didn't get a response to the whistle, I started to try to call the dog.

"Puppy? Cm'here puppy puppy puppy." I felt silly calling out like this, but I didn't know its name, and the fact that it didn't bombard me expecting its master when I opened the door was surprising.

I damn near tripped over a raised water-food bowl in the kitchen, cursing loudly as I grabbed the edge of a granite counter top hastily to prevent myself from falling. Raised water bowl? It must be a big dog, then. A German Shepherd? Retriever? Lab? Malinois? Mastiff, maybe?

 

The sound of sloshing water dripping onto the wood floors startled me. The water bowl was still full.

 

Strange. By now it should have drank all of it. Unless it was crated? I got no response to my calls, and continued walking about the house. That had to be the only solution- other than if Tord actually took the dog with him. I didn't expect him to, because honestly, he wasn't one for attachment, especially to a creature he likely got as a cover or a guard, and it would slow him down considerably. A slight thump from upstairs jerked me out of my racing thoughts. My hand shot to my holster, and my heart rate picked up, but I approached the stairs, I couldn't help shaking my head as I ascended. "....God damnit, Edd. You're making a fool of yourself, afraid of a damn dog" I muttered, but couldn't bring myself to keep my hand off of my gun. I couldn't shake the thought of Tord approaching from behind some door, some stupid grin on his face as he stabbed me in the gut, clutching me against his body while whispering some taunt in my ear. He'd let me fall, and watch the life drip away from myself. Or so I always thought he would.

I made my way down the hall, opening doors, gun in hand as I opened the doors, clicking my tongue to try to convince a scared dog to come forth. Guest bedroom, office, bathroom, some sort of workshop, another guest room.......master bedroom. The room at the end of the hall. Tord's bedroom. This had to be it, right?

".........Pup?" I tried, not exactly surprised when I heard no answer. I glanced around the room, searching for any more clues of a dog- and then my heart skipped a beat.

There was a thick chain attached to the iron bedpost, pulled tight and under the bed.

What the hell? What kind of person would keep their dog in their room like this? Attached to their bed? Or was this some strange BDSM bullshit? That wouldn't be too far fetched, given the fact I had noticed a few strange empty hooks and things in the walls around various rooms of the house. It would make sense for Tord to be into some kinkier sexual tendencies, but the taut chain provided more questions than answers. The apparent dog bed off to the side and few scattered chew toys made it seem more and more likely it was a dog. I crouched down onto my knees, and aimed my flashlight under the bed, ready to console the poor thing.

 

"...Oh my god."

 

-

 

The boy was huddled against the wall, lanky form shrunk against the wall in a pile of limbs. There was a thick collar attached around his neck, hanging slightly with the weight of the heavy chain. He was alarmingly reminiscent of some sight hound, all legs and arms and no bulk. He was naked, and seemed terrified, not responding to my initial words. I swallowed thickly, struggling with the situation. Tord did have a dog he left behind. A dog. Sort of. I found my breath again, and tried once more, my voice softening. ".....Hey...Hey. It's okay. I'm here to help you, okay? It's okay. He can't hurt you anymore. He's gone. You're going to be okay now. Are you hurt?"

He didn't answer, just shook as he pressed himself into a smaller shape, whimpering. I paused, unsure of how to get him to come out. "....Hang on. I'll be right back, okay? It's going to be alright." I stood up, and headed downstairs, head swimming with too many emotions and too many thoughts. I searched the cabinets to reduce my nervous pacing and flipping stomach. I debated my options. Calling back-up? Probably should. But I had a sinking feeling it would only cause the traumatized boy panic. And I didn't want to do that. I'd do this by myself, for now. His comfort was more important than anything right now. I didn't want to think about the answers to the questions I had in my mind: Who was he? Why? Was there ever any others? How long had he been here? I grabbed a cup and filled it with water from the fridge, shaking my head as I tried to keep myself from drowning in my own thoughts. I hastily made it back up the stairs and into the room, letting out a shaky sigh as I seated myself near the bed, on the floor, placing the tall cup of water down about a foot and a half away from me. ".....You must be thirsty right? C'mon. You can have it. It's water."

I heard the wood floors shift slightly as the boy moved, slowly coming out from under the bed. He sat there, nervously staring at me for a moment, with --oh god-- those baby blue eyes. Once he seemed certain I wasn't going to make any move towards him, he shifted towards the cup, and I felt my stomach drop when he lied down on his forearms and lapped at the water like a dog would.

 

I wanted to scream. Or vomit. Whichever came first. I always thought Tord was a monster. But I never thought he'd be this type of monster.

 

The boy appeared to be around 18 or 19. He was on the skinny side, but not malnourished, and despite several love bites and bruises on the boy, he seemed overall healthy and for his situation, well taken care of. His hair was neatly trimmed, though a bit greasy from not showering for two days, since he seemed trapped in the room. The chain reached to a side door, which I learned connected to a bathroom, but no tub or shower. Tord was probably afraid his pet might try to drown himself if he had access to it when he was gone. But in the chain-range, the only available water would have been the toilet or sink after the water bowl by the bed had been emptied. The door had been closed, and without rising up to open it, he wouldn't have been able to get inside. He was fully physically capable of doing so, but the mental prison of his situation obviously kept him from opening it. He was greedily lapping at the water. He must have drank his water bowl's worth, trusting Tord would be back to help him. I struggled watching him, and I couldn't stop myself from prompting him to be more human. "...I...It's okay to pick it up, kid." I mumbled, keeping my eyes on him, unable to look away. It was like a train wreck. He didn't make any move to show he had even heard me. Just kept acting like a dog.

I wonder how long it took Tord to teach him that.

 

The flash of his tag on the collar caught my eye, and I kept nudging forward until I was sitting next to the boy. He was nervous at first, but simply readjusted his position, continuing to drink, taking small breaks. I slowly reached out, and grabbed the dog tag, reading it.

Engraved on the front:  
"Tom"  
Thomas

I twisted it in my fingers, flipping the dog tag to the back. It read:

 

Tord Lareson

Followed by the address of the house. As if someone was going to return him if he got lost.

 

Wondering if he responded to the name, I released his tags.  
"......Tom?" I tried. He looked up at me immediately, tilting his head to the side. I felt like vomiting, but he seemed so conditioned to behave like a dog. It seemed like the only was I was going to get any cooperation out of him would be to play this game. We could work on everything else later.

".....Tom, I---" And then it hit me. Thomas. Thomas Ridgewater. The kid had gone missing two years ago. He was 18 at the time.

He was a rag-tag, generally rough, delinquent type of kid. The product of two failing parents: A deadbeat, abusive alcoholic of a father and a crack head mother. His father was arrested for the murder of a minor (after having sexual intercourse with said minor) a year before Tom's disappearance. He was killed in a prison fight only about half of a year ago. He was never well liked, even by his fellow inmates. I was surprised he lasted that long. His arrest left Tom with his mother, but she overdosed about a year after his disappearance. The kid himself had quite a list of offences. He was rarely in school but almost always in a bar, relying on older men (and occasionally women) to sneak him in and buy him drinks. He got into fights at school and on the streets, but I had been told more than once that he was "actually a pretty sweet kid." His mother had called the station to file a missing persons report when he had been gone for a week. It wasn't taken very seriously. Everyone figured she was too fucking high to notice he had stopped home, or he'd eventually show up. He always did. She had done this before, more than once, and it was always the case of her piss poor parenting.

It was only by the second week of his disappearance that anyone took her seriously.

But at that point, there wasn't anything to go off of. We figured he left the state in search of a better life or that he was dead in the woods somewhere, picked up by the wrong bar goer. There wasn't exactly a rush to find him. We had so many other things to do, mainly because of the current rise in the Red Butcher's cases.

 

But it seemed that the one we had been looking for was the one who did this to him.

 

Two years. Two years this now 20 year old spent being abused and conditioned to behave like Tord's dog. And I felt responsible. If we had taken this all seriously the first week-- could we have stopped this from happening to Tom? Could he have returned to his mother, prevented her (obvious and guilty) suicide by overdose, and caught Tord two years earlier, saving countless victims?

 

I knew I couldn't do this to myself, but it was damn near impossible to. And I couldn't help the tears that started to fall down my face. "...I'm so sorry, Tom."

He didn't seem to understand why I was apologizing, and tilted his head the other direction at me, eyebrows knitted together in confused concern, whining slightly.

I unhooked the chain from his collar, and pulled him into an embrace, covering him with my overcoat. He leaned into me, huddling against my warmth and nuzzling at my neck, bothered by my beard's scratchy stubble. He let out a huffed whimper, likely overloaded with his own emotional turmoil of being seemingly abandoned by the only person he'd known for two years only to find himself in the arms of a stranger.

 

This poor puppy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Infinitesimal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2- Infinitesimal
> 
> Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the "first" chapter for Disclaimer, Update Information, and other tags/warnings.

>> Tom's POV <<

The night was young.

It was about late-Fall, which happened to be the time in town that the bar became busy. Not that I wasn't always there; people just seemed to begin to drift towards the outskirts of town this time of year, frequenting the bars and drowning themselves in sorrow. My personal theory was that those who were alone were finally realizing they were alone. That in the upcoming months of "family" time, they either had nothing to look forward to, or would rather be dead than holed up thinking about their personal lives. I was technically supposed to be in school most of the time, but I ditched. My mother wasn't going to do anything about my piss poor performance. In her mind and mine, I was a dropout- if she could even remember I was in school. That being said, I wasn't one to want to walk in the shadows of my father. It wasn't a hidden fact that he was in prison. Or what he was in prison for. I wasn't going to beg and plead and scramble to try to get someone to give me a chance. It was easier to hide around in these hole-in-the-wall bars, doing what suited me at the time and not worrying about anything else. When "The Neighbor's Bar" popped up, I gave it a look. I always did. It was much nicer than I had been expecting, and I was drawn to the atmosphere. It was pleasant to find out that the owner wasn't exactly a moral compass, either. I didn't get much trouble around these parts about being under the age limit, with the police too wrapped up in the whole murderer thing to really crack down on the shady businesses, but I did run into the occasional asshole who wouldn't let me in.

 

But not this one, no, the owner of the bar- a rather scruffy rough-and-tumble type of man named Eduardo. Instead of kicking me out, he offered me a drink. He had something against the police head here- Edd, I think the man's name was?- or something. I asked him about it the night I met him, and quickly learned to never make the mistake again. He was rambling on for well over two hours about some 20-year old rivalry. I got as slammed as I could as fast as I could. He kept pouring me drinks, and if all I had to do was sit there and "listen", lost in a warm haze from the alcohol, it was bearable. Especially to get shit-faced for free. I don't even remember what happened between the two of them, but I never planned on asking Eddie again. I do know at some point I ended up in his lap, and left the bar with quite a few hickeys.

He took quite a liking to me after that.

I decided to stick around Eddie's bar exclusively after that. There were plenty of other men who begin to frequent here that also had a distaste for authority and a taste for me. It was a welcome distraction from real life, and it kept me from having to do any real searching. And I knew Eduardo would always have my back. Ever since dad got arrested, mom couldn't get a hold on herself. I always thought when he was gone that maybe she and I could finally be a family. Together. I was wrong. I don't understand why she crumbled when he was locked up. Yeah, the taunts of strangers and news coverage was difficult, but so was living with that son of a bitch. He was always hitting her when I was a kid, and she was always depressed then. When I felt bold enough, I stood up for her. Which arguably made my life worse, but hers better. He didn't hit her much anymore, and focused on me. She tried to convince me to kill him a few times, promising that we would be okay if he was gone. That she wasn't strong enough to do it, so I needed to be. I never tried. He terrified me.

And though she swore up and down she'd clean up her act once he was arrested-- she was still always on something. Even some donations and funds she had gotten to support us from people who pitied our situation went towards drugs. Something she had done last week had really gotten to her. She was starting to drink as well. I had been home maybe once in the last week as a result of it. I had come home at some ungodly hour (as usual), but she was still awake. She had backhanded me for "being a fag". She didn't usually make remarks on my obvious nighttime activities (expect once that I should be charging to support us), and she had never hurt me before. I guess it made sense that someone like her would end up with someone like my father.

Honestly, these days I just showed up at the house to make sure she wasn't dead and that my stuff was still there.

But I still needed to eat, and we still needed to pay bills. Luckily, Eduardo let me play at the bar when I was feeling like it. With my guitar and singing, Eddie let me make my own schedule, working as much or as little as I wanted to each week. He paid me for it and I kept any tips I got. It was a fairly nice gig, as it was low-stress and no commitments. Even if mom and I were short on money, there were more than enough men willing to let me crash at their house for a night or two, which meant dinner was on them.

Not to mention Eduardo let me have the drinks on the house. Pays off to suck up, sometimes.

But tonight wasn't a work night. I let out a puff of air, childishly smiling at the fog that came from my lips. I shouldered my hoodie, enjoying the cool weather of Fall, but arguably wishing it was a bit warmer this time of night. The leaves crunched beneath my shoes as I stepped into the illuminating light of the bar, and I added a bit of strut into my step. I had been diligently playing and making money this week, and I deserved a damn break. I needed a breather from the stress of avoiding my mother and trying to get money for food and bills. Tonight was about finding a lay. Which meant I ought to flaunt myself to find someone who caught my fancy- and if no one did, its not like Eddie was immune to my charms.

It was fairly busy already, even though it had just hit around 8. It typically really picked up around 10, and went on to be just a bustling until 3 or 4 in the morning. There were always a few stragglers, and the bar stayed occupied until it closed at 6 in the morning. The music was just as loud as the chatting of the patrons, the type that settled into your bones, but managed to fade into a comfortable background noise. I slid through the crowd and up to the bar, hopping up into my usual seat (that was damn near reserved for me or Eddie himself) and waving down the bartender, Jon. Jon and Eddie had apparently gone way back; him, Eddie and Mark were close friends from the start. He was a sweet guy, but that meant he wasn't cut out for being a bouncer or doing anything remotely abrasive, hence why he was always stuck behind the bar. His friendly disposition and generally kind nature kept most of even the rowdy customers under control. And if they didn't, Mark or Eduardo always had his back.

He slid a drink to a man at the end of the bar, turning on his heels to check if he was needed elsewhere. Seeing my seat filled, his eyes light up, and a smile came across his lips. He grabbed a glass and poured me my usual, leaning against the bar top as he let me take my drink. "....I'm surprised you're here. It was a long night yesterday- weren't you here till close?" he inquired, tossing up an eyebrow at me. I knew he didn't exactly approve of my decisions, and this question was more of a prod to see if I was indeed looking for a fuck tonight.

I shrugged, taking a large swig. "......It wasn't too bad. Just need to be anywhere but home, you know?"

He gave a short nod, grimacing. "......She's still nutty from Wednesday? I'm sorry, Tom......you can crash at my place if you want?"

I finished off my drink, letting Jon give me another. ".....Nah, its alright. I'm gonna find somewhere to crash tonight, don't worry."

Giving me his usual 'I'm disappointed in you' look, he let out a slight sigh as he shook his head. "....Alright, if you say so. You be careful for me, okay honey?" He took my forced smile as an answer, and moved back down the line to assist some new customers.

I appreciated Jon's concern, but it was time to get to the point of tonight. Sliding away from the bar, I snagged an open booth, closer to the bulk of the bar. I dragged my gaze through the crowd, catching flashes of faces as bodies melded together between the dancing and the drinking. Some of the men I recognized -- and didn't want to -- and there were a fairly large number of new men. Or at least I think they were. I could've just been trashed to hell and back. I kept to myself as I scouted, but couldn't shake a strange feeling in my gut. It was almost like I was doing this for the first time again, unsure of myself, some shaky kid trying to swoon his first date. I was spending more time drinking than scouting, and the frustration at myself was settling in when I was startled by a deep voice to my left.

".....Aren't you a little young to be in the bar, kid?"

I was jerked out of my tangled thoughts, and turned to get a look at the man. He was taller than I expected, and beefier too. He had a noticeable scar on his lip, and a steely resolve about him. He had deep amber-brown eyes, and a nice shade of dirty blonde hair. His clothes looked a bit too expensive to be here, in our shitty on-the-edge-of-town bar, or at least not one typically wore around here. He was awfully put together, and had a dominant air about him. He seemed intelligent, collected- a predator in a swarm of unsuspecting prey.

I tilted my chin up to look at him, giving him a slight snarling smirk. ".....Aren't you a little old to not know to mind your own business?"

There was a strange flicker of some emotion in his face--- anger? pleasure? annoyance? -- before it was gone, and his lips turned up into a smile. "....Little spitfire, are we? What's your name?" he rumbled.

Clearly he wasn't here to talk my ear off about my age. So not as straight of a moral compass as I thought. Or straight. "....Thomas. Tom is fine. What brings you down here? I haven't seen you before, and I'm here all the time. I work here."

He gave me an unimpressed look, leaning in slightly, a soft chuckle emitting from his throat. "....Ah ah ah, Thomas. Prostitution doesn't count as working here" he reprimanded, the same predatory smirk on his face as he gauged my reaction.

I felt my face heat up as I clenched my glass, knuckles white. ".....I play the guitar, asshole" I seethed, taking another drink.

".....Hm. Smirnoff? You should try something a bit more sophisticated" he remarked, his gaze lingering on my grip.

"...You should try shutting the fuck up." I snapped, not missing a beat. It was a shame really, that he seemed to want to play games. I wasn't in the mood tonight. Not after the week I had. He was going off of my radar, and he could tell.

The man slid up next to me-- close, too close?-- and I could smell his cologne, and feel the slight rumble in his chest when he spoke. ".......Now, now, Thomas." he chided, leaning in more closely to my ear. "I'm only playing with you. Don't lose your head. You may call me Tord. It's quite a pleasure to meet you."

I felt a stirring in my chest, and my groin, and looking down at my drink. "....." I had to admit I was drawn to him. He seemed like a jerk, yes, but an interesting one at the very least.

"Thomas? Is this man bothering you?" I heard, and looked up to see Eduardo. He must have noticed the man had moved more and more up against me in my booth, and that I didn't seem happy. I could feel the man's body striffen, as if he was waiting to strike. He clearly didn't enjoy the other man's interruption, but his face remained neutral.

I waved Eduardo off, giving him a sheepish smile "No, Eddie, I'm okay. Another drink would be nice?" I prompted, giving him a flash of puppy eyes. The man looked at Tord, giving him the slightest of warning glances, and took my drink. "...You're lucky I like you" he hummed, and went off to get me another glass.

 

"....Well he's wrapped around your finger, hm?" Tord mumbled, his mouth closer to my ear. "....You like having people pay attention to you Thomas? Is that why you were trying to find a man to go home with tonight?"

I crossed my arms when one of his snaked around my waist, pulling me more against him, a large hand spreading on my thigh.

"......You're not a fan of being subtle, are you?" I hissed, face flushed slightly at his straight forward approach. I was used to men being handsy, used to them saying vulgarities within minutes of meeting me, but the calculated way this stranger went about it was hitting all of the right notes."But....I'll admit I can't say I'm not interested."

He broke into a wide smile, a sharp-toothed grin, as he firmly tightened his grip on me and hauled me into his lap. I was still caught off guard by how easily he man handled me, and I could only nod as Eddie returned with my drink and reminded me to call for Mark if I needed anything.

One hand moved to grip my chin tightly, forcefully moving my head to look up at him, and him alone.

"You won't regret it."

 

\---

 

It was 3am now, and I was pretty trashed. Something felt off though, and I began to get more and more dizzy throughout the night. I felt like I was floating, and that I was losing control of myself. I must have really drank too much. I gripped at the front of his coat, shaking slightly. "....T-Tord....I don't.....feel....good- we've b-been here long enough...should go home" I slurred, going limp against his chest as I felt a strong arm wrap around me.

The voice that responded almost sounded like it was through a radio, and my mind struggled to keep up with it. "......You'll feel better soon, love. I gave you a bit of something. Its only been an hour. It's midnight, Thomas."

What? No. It...It'd been hours? Why would he..? "...T...W--?" His hand slid to the back of my neck, and pressed my face against his shoulder, making it hard to speak. "......I know a lot about you, Thomas. You never saw me before because I didn't want you to. I'm more careful than that. I've listened to you play for a few months now. I've been with you this whole time. It was hard to stand by and watch all of those terrible things happen to you. But I'm here now." I felt my stomach flipping in panic, and I couldn't manage to move or make a sound, my heart thudding harder in my chest. "...Shame about your father. But his work was sloppy. It was only a matter of time before he was caught- he should have been caught sooner, but Edd couldn't catch anything unless it was right in front of his face. And him finding your passed out father still halfway in that bleeding boy was what he needed to close that case."

I felt my body attempt to heave up whatever was in my stomach, but I didn't manage to do anything but let out a strangled sound. I felt like I was struggling, but I wasn't sure if I was moving at all. I let out a slight whimper of panic, and he shushed me., one hand rubbing my back soothingly. "...Its going to be alright, Thomas. You won't need to worry about anything anymore. Not your mother, your father-- I'll take care of everything. I'll take care of you" he purred. He stood, holding me against him with just one arm. He pulled out some cash from his front pocket, tossing the tip on the table before heading towards the exit. I couldn't do anything to signal to Mark something was wrong- that this wasn't just me going off for another lay with some man at the bar. I felt his gaze on me, but with my arms half haphazardly tossed around Tord, and my face buried in the man's neck, everything must of seemed fine.

I wanted to cry but I felt like I was falling. Any sense of anything was hard to grasp. It all felt numb.

 

I heard the car door open, and I felt myself being laid down in the back seat. I struggled to remain conscious, fighting to keep my eyes open, frightened whimpers tugging from my throat. I felt a warm, heavy hand cup the side of my face, and a thumb stroke my cheek. ".....Give in to it, Tom. Sleep. You'll need some rest." The warmth was gone, and I heard a few more sounds. The engine of the car turned on, and I felt the world shift as the car begin to move. I heard his voice once more before I couldn't stay awake any longer.

 

"You're going to be such a good dog for me, Thomas."


	4. Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3- Happy
> 
> Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the "first" chapter for Disclaimer, Update Information, and other tags/warnings.

>> Edd's POV <<

I paced around the bedroom, trying to focus on the soft clicking of the clock on the wall, and the steady sound of my footsteps on the floor. I waited for my phone to vibrate with the response, eyes looking over the message, but not really registering it. The kid wouldn't get off of his damn hands and knees, trotting around after me as I paced, diligently. The chain tinkled and clanked, the dog tag on his collar a constant reminder of his exact location. It was making me sick, knowing that the sound was not an excitable dog, but a very damaged man.

Despite his prancing, my coat still remained draped over his skinny form. I turned on my heel, and moved to kneel down in front of him. I unhooked the chain from his collar, and he seemed to perk up slightly, titling his head at me. "....Alright, Thomas...We need to get out of here, okay?" I reached around the back of his collar, going to unbuckle it.

Tom went berserk.

The reaction was visceral, a panicked wail tearing from his throat a his body jerked away from mine. He scrambled towards the nearest corner, blue eyes locked on the bed. He seemed to be gauging which would be a safer spot, quaking with terror. I feel backwards in surprise, grunting in pain when my tailbone hit the wood floors. Bewildered, I looked over at the boy who had shrunk himself into the corner. He looked pale.

And then he spoke. "P-please d-dont! Please, I-im a good boy, I'm a good boy..." he stammered, falling into a mantra, almost like a prayer. If he said it, it was true. His voice was soft and trembled just as much as he did. He looked and sounded as if he was going to cry, and I couldn't stop the feeling from bile rising in my throat.

But this wasn't about me. I was in survival mode. My first and foremost reaction was the need to comfort him- Tord must had done something to convince him that losing the collar was bad. For now, it seemed, it would stay. I shifted towards him slightly, lowering my voice to a soft and soothing tone. "Tom....Thomas....Its okay. I'm not going to hurt you, okay? You're safe. I'm sorry that I scared you, I won't do it again. Please come with me."

He slunk towards me, still shivering in fear. He wouldn't look up at me, and I pet his head lightly, shushing him and petting. Once he seemed to relax a little bit, I patted his head awkwardly, still extremely uncomfortable with the situation. "....Tom. We're going downstairs okay? I'm going to take you somewhere safe. It's going to be okay" I soothed, but only got a small nod in response.

I stood up, and made a move to assist him in standing, but he didn't do so. He seemed confused....and tried to give me his hand like a dog giving a paw for 'shake!'. I gave up at that, and walked out of the room and down the hall. He followed right behind me, staying just a step away from my heels. He sat down and looked up at me blankly when we got to the stairs, and I couldn't stop my exasperated sigh. I scooped him up with ease, and he went limp, snuggling against me without any trouble. He seemed very accustomed to be carried around like this; with Tord's size and strength (and possessive nature), I wasn't exactly surprised. At the very least, this let us move quicker to get out of this fucking house. I made a beeline for the front door, but Tom stiffened and begin to squirm, letting out a soft whimper. I paused, shifting him in my arms. "Whats wrong?"

He gestured towards a large dog bed in the corner of the living room, and I moved over to it. I bent down, scooping up a blanket and a toy that were nestled on it, putting them against him. He let out a hum of content, and gripped onto them.

I needed a fucking drink.

I carried him out into my car, letting him sprawl out like a dog in the backseat. He was hellbent on doing so and it just wasn't worth fighting it. He seemed very comfortable and moved quickly, and I tried to ignore the fact that this meant Tord likely drove him around places. That he probably drove by people, Thomas looking out the window, and no one would be the wiser. My eyes dragged over the blanket as I laid it out for him, and I realized it was actually a large flannel. It must have been Tord's. The toy was a stuffed bear, and I wondered if Tord had bought it for him, or if it was always Tom's, and he had it with him when he was taken.

I made sure everything was locked as it should be, and headed off towards the station. I drove admittedly a bit slow, and took the long route, my lights off. It was the dead of night, meaning little to no cars. Silence. And I needed that. I constantly looked in the rear view to check on Tom. He was sitting up at first, looking out the window at the street lights and the stars, but he quickly seemed to get sleepy, and was snuggled into the flannel and clutching the bear.

I let myself pause and think about everything. Why would Tord leave Tom behind? He knew that we knew. He was gone. He had time to take Thomas with him. Why would he leave him? Why?

I wracked my brain, and the only answer I could come up with at the moment was that he wanted Tom to be found. Because he knew I'd be the one to find him. And he'd know that Thomas was so conditioned that I'd have to treat Thomas like a dog to get him to cooperate. Which made me treat Thomas as if I were Tord.

My skin crawled at the thought of being anything like Tord. He had been playing games with me since the beginning. He thrilled in doing whatever he could to make me feel and look like a failure. But could this really have been an elaborate ploy to make me feel like shit? It couldn't. Right?

I couldn't wait to put the fucking bastard away. He unarguably would get the death penalty. But I strongly felt even that wasn't enough, for what he's done to all of the families, the men hes killed, and to this boy.

We pulled up into the station, and I couldn't help but sit in the car for a few minutes. My mind was racing.

I picked Thomas up from the backseat, and he sleepily laid against me. I subconsciously pet his back as I carried him in. I didn't want to see him crawling around; I didn't think I could handle any more of this at the moment, and his knees and hands already looked a bit beat up and bruised.

When i came through the door, Matt popped out of his room. He opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance. I heard his voice catch in his throat at the sight of Tom, and just gave him a knowing grimace as I carried the boy into my office. Matt followed close behind, eyebrows knit together.

I set Thomas down in a large armchair of mine in the corner of the room. He seemed considerably more awake, and had a concerned look about him. I was about to ask, but he slowly settled down into the leather after seemingly judging that it was alright.

I looked at Matt, voice tight. ".....I....I need a minute. Can you watch him?"

"....Yeah, of course, Edd."

"............Thanks."

 

I went into the back, sat down, and cried.

-

>> Tom's POV <<

 

The man was nice. Edd? Tord had spoken about him before--- he said he didn't like him. But that he was still his friend. And he always told me to be good for his friends. I found it strange Tord was friends with Edd. He always said the police were bad men. And how do you not like your friend? It was confusing...but Tord was always smarter than I was. Maybe I just couldn't understand.

After all, Tord had been right about the police. They were bad. They didn't help me and my mother when dad was around, even though some people seemed to pity us for what was happening. On the other hand, Edd seemed like he wasn't a bad guy. Maybe he didn't know.

Being outside without Tord was different. I couldn't really recall the last time I had done so. I think it was before I had been with him- and anything before him was no longer important. He took me outside when I was a very good boy. I was almost always a good boy, but it was hard to convince him that I was being the best I could possibly be.

I don't know why Edd kept saying it was okay now, and I was going somewhere safe. I was safe, with Tord. Tord would come back to pick me up....right? Unless something had happened to him? Was he okay? Was that why I was at the police station?

Edd left me with a tall man. He had a kind smile. I decided I like him. He was looking at me with a tight, sad, smile. Why was everyone so sad? Why did everyone keep apologizing? I was fine. Maybe Tord really was hurt? Was he dead? Was I going to be alone? What was I going to do? What am I supposed to --

I heard his voice cut into my thoughts, and I looked up at him.

 

".......Thomas? Do you know why you're here?" His voice was gentle, and he gave me a slight smile.

 

I bit at my nail for a moment, trying to decide if it was okay to answer with words, or if I should just shake my head no. ".......A...A-ah....is....Master okay?" I tried, darting my eyes away from him.

He kept a pleasant smile on his face, biting his lip slightly before continuing in a soft voice. "......Yes, Tord is okay."

I held onto Tommee, my bear, feeling a bit more confident now that I was figuring out how to navigate this new man. I looked up at him again, tilting my head before asking about Tord again. "Where is he?"

He seemed uncomfortable with my question. Maybe I shouldn't have asked? I had to be very attune to body language these days. I found it was the only reliable way to judge if I was being good or not.

Matt shook his head slightly. "....We're not sure, Tom. But we're going to keep you with us until we find him, so you're safe, okay?"

That made sense. Edd was Tord's friend. If Tord was gone, someone needed to watch after me. That must be why they kept telling me I was safe. Tord had to leave somewhere for a bit, but he would be back. I nodded. "...Okay."

 

He gave me a charming smile. "......I'm glad you're talking with me, Tom. Do you feel okay? Does anything hurt?"

 

I blurted out the only thing that came to mind: "....I'm hungry!"

He nodded vigorously, and seemed happy to have something to do. "Let me get you some food and some water! I'll be right back hon." He swiftly exited the office, and returned only a few minutes later. I occupied myself by looking around the office at all of the books, decorations, papers, fancy rewards..... It seemed Edd was well liked. He set the food on the desk, gesturing for me to move to eat it.

Uh oh. "...A-uhm..."

"....What's wrong?"

"....I...I can't reach it.."

He seemed confused for a moment before his body stiffened. "....Oh." He moved, setting it on the floor.

"....Thank you." I slid off the chair, and started to eat, not noticing how his knuckles went white as he gripped the edge of the desk, a smile still plastered on his face.


	5. Bit by Bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4- Bit by Bit
> 
> Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the "first" chapter for Disclaimer, Update Information, and other tags/warnings.

>> Tom's POV <<

I felt myself coming back around, and I groaned softly as I sluggishly pulled a hand up to my face, rubbing my eyes. I felt like hell. I must've gotten slammed at the bar. I was laying on something soft-- a bed -- I must of gone home with some guy from the bar- Some guy from the bar. Tord. I jerked into a sitting position with a loud gasp as I willed air into my lungs, eyes wild as I looked around the bedroom. 

"Ah, Thomas." The accent cut through my thoughts like a blade, and I jerked around in shock as the man walked into the bedroom. I immediately sprang and threw a punch at him out of instinct, curses and screams flying out of my mouth. He easily regained control of the situation, gripping my arm and twisting it painfully behind my back. I heard the leather of his gloves tighten as he shifted his grip, easily using his weight and strength to keep me on the ground. 

".....Thomas. Please do behave. I'd like to get to know you better, but if you're going to be like this, I've already got to punish you. No one will hear you, help you, or find you. No one's looking, Tom. Settle down. You can try to run, but I will catch you. You will regret it. You won't be able to get out of the house. I've been preparing for this for a long time. Don't make this worse for yourself."

His voice was surprisingly factual. Soothing. Like he was talking to a young child, or a wounded animal. He was a liar. He was just trying to get me to be compliant. Fuck with my head. Make me lose hope. Eddie would look for me. He'd notice I wasn't showing up....He'd know it was more than just a down week for me, right? My mother-- she...she'd realize I was gone. Eventually, right? She couldn't still be that mad at me about everything. She'd tell someone I was gone...wouldn't she? The house. It looks like a normal house. Surely we're in a neighborhood? And I just need to....!

I wriggled in his grasp, and perhaps he didn't count on me being quite so flexible. My boot connected sharply with his groin, and he let out a pained snarl. He twisted backwards off of me, and I scrambled onto my feet. I flung the bedroom door open and ran. I wasn't even sure where I was in the house, or where I was going. Realizing we were upstairs, I damn near fell down the steps as I stumbled to the front door, jerking at the handle. I even flipped the deadbolt, but it wouldn't open. It needed a key. 

The angry yell that tore through the air paralyzed me with fear. 

"Thomas!" Tord roared, and he came into the hallway, coming down the stairs, absolutely livid. My fists connected with the door, and I yelled as loudly as I could. "Help! Please! Someone! Help!" 

I ran away when he hit the bottom step, bolting to the next room over and trying to tear open a window. As hard as I jerked on it once the locks were turned, it wouldn't open. He entered the room, and I turned, going to head for the next room. The house was dark, and I didn't see the vase until it was too late. I tripped over it, letting out a yelp of alarm as I fell on the shattering glass. As soon as I went to get back to my feet, a thick, strong hand gripped around my thin neck. I let out a panicked yell, and tugged and jerked on his hand as hard as I could. He easily pulled me tightly against his chest. keeping one arm around my waist and one hand firmly gripping my chin.

His voice was much different now. It was cold. Harsh, rough-- not unlike the glass scattered under our feet. "....They're sealed Thomas. You're not going to be able to open or break the windows. The doors are all under more than one locking mechanism. No one is going to hear you, either. And trust me. I've had to kill people in my house before."

I felt my blood run cold at his words, and I didn't doubt it for a second. Overcome with terror and horror, I began to sob hysterically, my hands still pathetically clawing at his. He easily shifted me about, and pressed me against himself. We were chest to chest now, and his arms encircled me as if we were hugging. He seemed to have realized he said the wrong thing to get me to cooperate, and his soothing voice was back. A hand reached up and began to stroke my hair. 

"...Settle down, Tom. I'm not going to kill you. You're too important to me" he rumbled.

I beat my fists on his back, sobbing into his shoulder. "Let me go! Let me go! You don't even know me! God, please, just let me go! I won't tell anyone! Please!"

"I know, I know" he cooed, but my cries seemed to have no effect on the man. He carried me throw a few rooms towards a door, and began to descend into a basement. I began to yell curses at him in-between sobs. He was going to kill me. I knew it. I was dead. Even while only using one arm to restrain and carry me, I wasn't a match for him. He took his time opening another door in the basement. I had barely even began to look around the basement itself before my attention was all on the new room. It was brightly lit, with one ratty blanket in one corner, and a toilet in the other. The walls were smooth concrete. The floor-- I cried out in pain as I was dropped suddenly. The floor happened to also be concrete. 

"I figured this would happen", Tord sighed, looking down at me with pity and anger in his eyes. I twisted onto my knees, and couldn't help cowering slightly.

".....Bad dogs don't deserve freedom, Thomas."

The door slammed shut. 

 

-

>> Tord's POV <<

I locked the door behind me, chuckling at the damn near immediate screaming and pounding on the other side of the door. He really was a little spitfire. Which was certainly amusing, especially in a situation he had no business being sassy in. I headed up the stairs back onto the main floor, and shut the basement door behind me. I could cut him some slack, seeing as he was going through several stages of emotional distress, but where was the fun and discipline in that? He needed to know I wasn't going to let him have a single mistake without being punished. Emotional or not, I had given him one outburst in the bedroom. I was already being rather merciful. He chose to stomp on that. 

And a shame he had to go and break my vase. I busied myself with cleaning it up. I knew he was going to throw some sort of fit- it was a pipe dream to think he'd be obedient from the start. I was hoping at the very least I could have the first night with him. Obviously, this was never going to be the case. I couldn't hear a single thing from him anymore, with the basement door shut. It was time to celebrate. I helped myself to a glass of champagne and a cigar, relaxing by the fireplace in my living room. It felt so undeniably good to have Thomas home, where he belonged. I really had been waiting for this for a long time. 

I had been picky in my search to find the perfect pet. I had brushed over a few that seemed to be potential options, but I never felt the spark I felt the moment when I saw Thomas. His situation was a dream- no father to worry about, batshit crazy mother, no siblings, no pets, no real possessions to speak of. Just some street kid who disliked the law and spent most of his time doing things he wasn't supposed to do. It was almost pathetically easy to track him and keep an eye on him. Learn everything about him. Sometimes when his mother was out, or locked herself in her room, I went into their house. I often wound up in Thomas's room, going through his belongings. I had even taken the time to go take that stupid little bear he had hidden under his pillow yesterday. I wonder if he thought he lost it. I wonder how excited he'll be to get it back. Only when hes a good boy, of course. I quickly could predict his schedule, and in between moments of throwing dinner parties, work, keeping up my general facade, and making more pieces (or murders, as some less grateful might say), I was tailing Tom. 

His situation wasn't the only thing that was perfect. I liked a bit of bite and bark- liked the bit of a challenge. The threat of sass or snark. Baby blue eyes, a voice I could live in for the rest of my life...thin, small- but not without any muscle. Easy enough to man handle, as that clearly was going to be necessary. His attraction to men and alcohol was just icing on the cake. It was almost laughable how easy it was to take the kid out of the bar--- because my little pup couldn't help but constantly beg for men to take him home. 

Searching for the love and affection he was robbed of as a child, no doubt. 

As much as I was going to thrill in breaking him over time, I had work to do. I seated myself in my office, and got to work on selecting my next target to be the lucky medium.

 

-

>> Tom's POV <<

I screamed until my throat was raw and I could no longer find my voice. I pounded on the door until my hands were bloody, and I couldn't find the strength to keep throwing my body about or kicking it. I gave up and huddled into the corner on the blanket, sobbing into my hoodie.

-

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. The bright lights never shut off, and there was nothing to go off of but my own mind. Food and water were occasionally dropped into what I had thought of as my new room (My home away from home, I laughed, dryly) from a slow in the wall. The slot remained closed most of the time. I knew it had to be Tord visiting to give me food, and I even quickly gave up on my pride, begging and pleading with him to let me out. He never gave me so much as a word or a sound to know he was there. That he heard me. 

There was nothing to do in the room except tear myself apart. I tried to sleep as much as I could, but nightmares and panic attacks plagued me. I only eventually came down from them after shaking on the floor for who knows how long, crying until I couldn't, struggling to get air into my lungs and passing out. I spoke to myself eventually, because I had no one else to speak to. I was finding it harder and harder to keep food down. I woke up screaming on more than one occasion, convinced I was being sawed open, cut neatly into little pieces, choked-- I can't breathe, why can't I breathe?

I would pound at the walls and doors and wail when I could, but my hands were bruised and always hurt. My shoulders and body weren't doing well either from my repeated slamming. I was hitting the walls now. It didn't even matter that I knew I couldn't get out. My mind was racing, and I couldn't think straight. Where am I? Where did Tord take me? Had he really been planning this? Watching me? Had my mother finally just wanted to get rid of me? Did she sell me? Did she know I was gone? Did she even care? 

No one was going to help me, were they?

Did I do something wrong?

Why was everyone letting this happen to me?

Was I ever going to see another person again?

Sometimes, when I tried to sleep, I swear I saw Tord standing in the cell. By the time I could process it, and beg and plead, he was never there. Was I going crazy?

I sat on the blanket, my knees pulled up to my chest. I rocked back and forth for awhile, before pulling my hoodie sleeves up. I started meticulously scratching at myself with my nails. It provided some sort of relief. It was...comforting. I was starting to bleed, and it hurt, but I didn't stop. 

I just wanted to die.

-

>> Tord's POV <<

I had been monitoring the boy closely through surveillance. He, of course, didn't know that. Predictably, he fell apart from the isolation- but this was the goal. Continue to pick him apart, and put him back together the way I wanted, as long as it took. 

I checked the cameras often on my phone, but it was difficult to do when you were dragged out to a tedious dinner party to save face to your colleagues. I was beginning to run out of excuses to skirt meetings and outings, so I had grudgingly agreed to show up to Yanov's party. I had little time to check on Thomas without risking a nosy guest snooping at what I was looking at. And there was simply no good reason to be watching a man locked in a small room. 

I pulled my coat off, and tossed it on the couch, abandoning my shoes by the front door. I really just did not have the energy tonight to keep everything perfectly put together how I liked it. I typed my password in to my awaiting laptop, and checked on Tom. 

The damn dog was clawing himself. 

I couldn't stop the irritated sigh as I quickly headed for the basement, pinching the bridge of my nose. I figured he would have enough of it all when he found out that slamming oneself into concrete repeatedly did indeed hurt. I knew I shouldn't have gone. I should have left earlier. I swung the door open without hesitation, staring down at him.

Tired baby blue eyes jerked up to look at me, a sharp, startled cry tearing from his throat as he bolted for my legs, grabbing onto my pants. He was babbling something nervously about not wanting to be alone anymore, voice hoarse and breaking. I crouched down, and easily scooped the boy up, who seemed incapable of logical thought at the moment. He kept a tight grip on my shoulders, continuing to spit out apologies and sobs. ".....Shhh...you're okay Thomas. I've got you, everything's okay" I soothed, letting one of my hands tangle into the boys hair. 

He needed a bath. He was a mess, really. 

"....Hush, Thomas. Listen to me" I hummed, carrying him upstairs from the basement, and then once again up the steps onto the second floor. I flicked the switch on for the bathroom, and set him on the counter. I started the water for the bath, and turned to undress him. I paused for a moment to take in the view. 

He was huddled on the counter, knees close together, and knuckles gripping the counter edge so hard that they were white. His head was hung slightly, and he was trembling like a leaf, terrified, sad eyes staring at me through glassy tears. He had lost quite a bit of weight, seeming even smaller in the large hoodie. 

He looked quite lovely like this, I had to admit. Though I definitely preferred to have a clean dog.

"...Thomas...." I purred, moving over to kiss his temple as I began to pull off his clothes. "......Listen." I attempted to console the boy as I stripped him. I moved him into the tub once he was nude, giving him a moment to relax enough to answer me in phrases and simple sentences. "...Tom, look. I don't want to have to put you in the room again. I want you to be out here, with me. You don't want to go back, do you?"

He blinked at me wildly, shaking his head as more silent tears spilled down his cheeks. "N-n-n-n-no." He forced out, shaking under my hands. I was busy scrubbing the dirt off of him after shampooing his hair, and he was being perfectly compliant. The scare of confinement was enough for me to get a head start on his training until the anger settled back in. Perfect. 

"...Then I need you to do what I say, Tom. You can't try to leave the house-It's not safe, Thomas. I can keep you safe, but I need you to stay away from the windows and the doors, and be quiet, okay? Can you do that for me? You don't have to go back to the room if you can do that. Can you be a good boy for me, Tom? " I did my best to keep things simple, and repeated several questions and phrases to try to drill it into the shaken boys head. 

He gave a broken nod, stammering "O-o-okay. I-ill b-be good." 

I broke out into a grin as I rinsed him off, running a hand through his wet hair. "...Good boy Tom!" I praised, and his eyes lit up slightly. 

What a good boy, indeed.


	6. Little Pistol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5- Little Pistol
> 
> Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the "first" chapter for Disclaimer, Update Information, and other tags/warnings.

>>Edd's POV<<

Once I regained my composure enough to make an appearance again, I hesitantly walked back into the office. The boy was curled up in the armchair, sound asleep, covered by his "blanket", and snuggling the stuffed bear. I didn't know how much that relieved me until I let out the breath that was in my throat, and my shoulders sagged. I didn't have to keep up the "everything is okay" facade for a few moments. Matthew was sitting at my desk, scribbling furiously in his notebook. I could see he had made a few pages of them. He paused when I entered, giving me a slight grimace as he finished his note before setting down the book. "....Are you alright, Edd?"

I sighed, running a tired hand through my hair. I wanted to laugh at the question. Of course I wasn't okay. None of us were going to be okay. ".....Yeah, sure. How's the kid?"

"He went right to sleep after he ate a bit. I think he's overwhelmed from being out of the house. He was very curious about everything in the room...." He went quiet for a moment, and then looked back at me. I didn't like the pause as he readjusted himself.  
[  
"Edd" he began, his tone soft. Like he was treading on thin ice. Well that couldn't be good news. 

"......What." I growled, unable to keep the bite out of my voice. I couldn't help it. Today was a total shit show, and I wasn't ready to handle any more bullshit. Which clearly Matt planned on bringing up. He didn't take my anger personally, sighing as he stood. I sat on the edge of my desk, crossing my arms in irritation as he fiddled with his pen for a minute. 

"...I think you should keep Tom with you---- No, Edd, don't give me that look damn it! He needs to stay with someone, and we both know he'd freak out if we let someone take him. I can work with him, and it'd be easiest if he just stayed with you. I'm not asking you to do this alone. I'm just trying to tell you what I think is the best for Thomas right now."

I knew what he was saying made sense, but it still got under my skin. Why me? I didn't want an even more constant reminder I'd failed to get Tord thus so far. It was fucking stupid. "Matt. I can't 'fix' him. I don't know if anyone ever can. I mean c'mon. He's a lost cause. I cant--"

 

He cut me off, matching my cross armed stance as he raised an eyebrow. "You can stop there, Edd. I'm not asking you to 'fix' him. I'm asking you to keep him close to you, protect him, and try to keep him happy. I'm very aware that I'm much more cut out for the job to get him a bit more reintroduced to society. But he needs to stay somewhere" he quipped back, standing his ground. 

"Then why can't he just, you know, why not --"

"Not me? Edd, he likes you. He asked about you several times when you were gone. He seems to like me enough, but he'd feel better with you, that much is clear. And if anything were to happen.." he trailed off, and he seemed a bit more insecure of himself. 

"If Tord comes for him" I supplied, and he visibly flinched. "...That's what you mean. 'If anything were to happen'". 

"I.....yeah." He finished, looking away. I hated to admit it, but it made sense. Matt most often worked with children who had witnessed or been victims of various types of trauma. Tom wasn't a child, but he wouldn't be any good with traditional methods of speaking to him. We'd need to coax it out of him a bit more softly, and Matt was the guy for that indeed. Tom had spent the past two years of his life being treated like a dog, or at the very least, like he had less power than a human being. It would be best to have Matt approach him like does for his profession.

As far as Thomas staying with Matt.....his apartment was admittedly tiny. He had more than enough of a paycheck to get a nice, large house, but he always said he'd preferred the "cozy" feeling of an apartment. It was cramped, not cozy. He had it organized, but the amount of shelves of random things he found interesting enough to hold on to made it hard to move around in there. Thomas might appreciate the small space, but it also might make him anxious. It was probably better to give him as many options as possible-- and Matt only had one bed anyways. If he wasn't at the station, he was running around to various hospitals and establishments to help children or learn whatever he could to better himself and his skills. And in my humble opinion, he was shit with a gun.

It was true Tom would be safer and likely more comfortable with me. And I suppose I was selfish or a coward for not wanting to give up my own comfort to take him in. I couldn't help but think that Tord did all of this on purpose. He wouldn't want to leave Thomas after spending so much 'time' on him, but he must have prepared for this. The back up if he did lose him. Knowing that it would get under my skin and tear me apart to tote around my failures in a living person. 

Fucking bastard. 

All things considered, I didn't really even have a choice. "Fine. I'll do it. But you'd better be helping me."

-

I carried Thomas into my house, tiredly kicking the door shut behind me. I might have gotten into an argument about having to keep him with me, but I wasn't going to let anything else ever happen to him. Not anymore, not ever again. I was going to protect him with my life-- not that it could ever make up for what he'd been through.

I plopped him down on my sofa, and he seemed surprised but didn't speak. My phone was going off for the millionth time. I had called him and left a rushed, barely apologetic voicemail explaining that I needed him to take over several things while I handled Thomas. He was the most reliable, hardworking man I had there, and I trusted him with my life - but damn was he a bit punchy. His husband, Patryck, was usually able to settle him down. but I'll admit I wasn't keen on seeing him soon either-- he'd likely be pissed I was taking Paul away from home even more than Paul already was out keeping things in check and helping me chase Tord. I felt like everyone's goddamn worst enemy, even with Thomas looking up at my like I was some saint. 

Yeah, how holy I am, with all of my flaws. 

I dressed Thomas in some of my clothes. The hoodie was laughably big on him. At least he wasn't naked anymore. I couldn't do much about pants for him, but the hoodie I pulled out drowned him long enough to be a dress anyways. I'd have to get some actual clothes for him tomorrow. The phone rang again, and unable to ignore it any longer, I let out a sigh.

"I, uh, I've gotta take this. Just...entertain yourself?" I tried, patting his head awkwardly and sat at the island in the kitchen, answering Paul. 

-

>>Tom's POV<<

I watched him go and sit down, and then turned my attention to the room. Edd was so nice! His house was big too, like Tord's. The entrance led to a stairway, an office to the right with big glass french doors, and some other room to the left. The living room was big and open, and connected to a big kitchen, and I could see a dining room on the other side of the kitchen. It wasn't as extravagant as Tord's house was, but it was very pretty. I liked that it reminded me of home. Tord had dark wood floors too. 

I don't understand why he seemed so upset. Everything was fine. He said Tord was okay. I'm okay. He's okay. There's nothing to be sad about. 

I was still rather sleepy, but it was hard to get rest when I had been alone in the house, waiting for Tord to come home. I slid off of the gray sofa to get closer to the fireplace, sitting in front of the TV. It was the news. Tord never let me watch the news. Sometimes I saw the weather in the morning. The carpet in the living room was nice- soft, a nice change of pace from the pain of the hard wood floors.  
I yawned, hopping off of the grey sofa and walked up to the fireplace, sitting in front of the TV. It was the news. Tord never let me watch the news. At the very least, the carpet was soft, and didn't hurt my hands and knees so much. 

The news reporter adjusted her papers, a serious expression on her face as she continued: "In case you missed it this morning, there has been a minor update on the case that everyone is talking about. The identity of the so-called 'Red Butcher', murderer of over-" I heard a loud swear and a sound as Edd's phone clattered onto the counter tops. He made a dive for the remote, hitting the buttons wildly until it flipped to cartoons.

I jerked in surprise at his movement, and suddenly felt my stomach flip. Did I do something bad? Should I of not looked at the screen? I shrunk against the floor, cowering, and frightened whimpers came from my throat. I didn't run. Running always lead to worse things.

Edd paused, seeming relieved, before he turned towards me. He moved towards me and sank onto his knees. I flinched, but he simply sat on the floor in front of me, voice soft. "...No, no, Thomas. You're okay. Its okay. Hey, calm down, buddy. You're okay. I just...I forgot to change the channel is all. It's not your fault." 

I blinked up at him, and sat up hesitantly, body still hunched together, in fear of a blow. It hurt less when I bunched up. He gave me a gentle smile, and I relaxed slightly, still on edge. 

"That's it. You're okay, Thomas, see? No one's going to hurt you when I'm around, okay?" he soothed.

I gave a slight nod, eyebrows knitted together. That didn't make any sense. It was my fault. I should have known. Why didn't he punish me? I should have asked before I moved or looked.

He seemed to notice I was still confused, and scooped me up easily, setting me back onto the couch. "..U-uhm..here." He mumbled, wrapping me in a blanket that was thrown over the back of the sofa, giving me Tommee, and surrounding me with pillows. "....There."

He pat my head, and seemed just as confused as I was, shuffling back off into the kitchen. Even from here and over the TV, I could still hear that the angry, muffled yelling and arguing from the other end of the call hadn't stopped. I heard Edd sigh, and his exhausted attempt at consoling the man. "I know, I know, Listen-- Paul--- oh, come on, this isn't-- I- Will you let me talk? Christ! I couldn't have given you more of a warning because I didn't have a warning. Look, its not going to be that long, I don't think. I can explain more to you tomorrow I- You know thats not true, Paul- No! Don't put Pat on the - hey, Pat.....how're you?"

I hesitantly looked back up at the TV. Tord let me watch cartoons when I was a good boy. Then I must be a good boy? Even though I accidentally misbehaved? 

Edd sure was confusing. 

But...as long as I was a good boy, it was okay. 

Right?


	7. Reaper Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6- Reaper Man
> 
> Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the "first" chapter for Disclaimer, Update Information, and other tags/warnings.

 

>> Tom's POV <<

I huddled against Tord's body, trembling as he continued to dry me off. He wrapped me in a few towels, and then scooped me up with ease. It was frightening-- and ironically comforting-- how strong he was. I felt like he could protect me-- but what could protect me from him? He was clearly insane. But I was going to do anything I could to make sure I didn't upset him. He'd probably put me back in that room. Maybe for longer than he did. And I didn't even know how long I was in there- but if I had to be in the room any longer I'd go crazy.

I whimpered at the thoughts running rampant through my head, and he cooed in my ear, kissing my head and rubbing circles on my back as he carried me into his bedroom. He set me down on the bed, and tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. I tried to pull away out of fear, but his grip tightened, his hand maintaining a strong hold on my face.

He tipped his head slightly, looking me over. I felt like I was going to drown in his eyes, two dark pools of amber-brown bearing down on me. "Thomas..." He began, and I swallowed audibly, a whine pulling from my throat. "Thomas, love. You don't need to be afraid of me if you're being good, okay?" I gave a jerk of a nod, not able to move much due to his grip. "....Good boy, Tom. There's a lot of rules you'll learn, but I just need you to remember this one for now - Only get on furniture if I tell you its okay. Understand?"

I felt my stomach flip and my eyes widened in fear, and I began to let out fretful cries. Had he set me up? Just to get me in trouble again? He chuckled, letting go of my chin, but he leaned down, putting his body over mine. I was easily pinned to the bed with his weight, and he wasn't even attempting to keep a hold on me. It was clearly a move to display his power. Remind me that even if I tried to run, I probably wouldn't even make it down the stairs (again). He ran a hand through my hair, soothingly shushing me. "It's okay, love. Do you really think I'd try to make you fail? You have to think higher of me than that, Thomas. You're always welcome in my bed unless I tell you otherwise, understand?"

I nodded shakily, struggling to get my body to react. I felt paralyzed with fear, and I couldn't seem to regain control over my body. "Come now, Thomas" he tsked, "I know you're nervous, but settle down. Use your words."

I licked my lips nervously, looking up at him. Our faces were inches apart, and he wore a predatory smirk. The fire in my chest wanted to quip back a complaint at his condescending tone, but I really didn't want to fuck up. "..I.--i-i..u-u-uhm..O-okay!" I tried, and he chuckled, stroking his thumb against my cheek. I bit my lip, angrily chastising myself for my inability to even get out a damn word without stuttering like a broken record.

He leaned back from me, straddling my legs. The sexual tension and implications were not lost on me. Everything he did screamed dominance, power, control, and sex. He considered me for a moment, and I remained still, a rabbit caught in the den of a wolf. Fleeing or fighting was not an option. I just had to pray.

He thankfully got up off of me, opening the top drawer of one of the rich mahogany nightstands, fiddling a moment with the contents. He pulled out a light blue collar (which was too similar to my eye color for comfort- he really had been watching me for a long time) and looked back over me, a thin smile coming across his lips. I felt the pain and panic in my gut, and my face heated up from embarrassment. He couldn't be serious- but he absolutely was. I struggled internally with myself; fear so deeply rooted in my heart I couldn't disobey, but anger and outrage beating down on it's doors, trying to break the rigid sheild of my fear. Fear won out easily as he stood before me, and I instinctively turned my head away, unintentionally offering him my neck. The collar quickly was looped around my neck, and I heard the metal click as its cold buckle rested against my throat. A gentle kiss was placed on my cheek, and he ruffled my hair, smiling down at me. "What a good boy!"

I was confused at the stirring in my stomach at his words, and felt myself blushing even more. Why did I have to have such a strong reaction to praise and validation? How fucking dare I feel any sort of affection or-- god forbid- thankfulness towards Tord? My kidnapper? My captor? I was jerked out of my thoughts when I heard his voice once more, and the sound of metal scraping on the wood floors.

"A few more rules to go over, Thomas." He stood, dutifully attaching the large chain he pulled out from underneath the king sized bed to the D-ring on my collar. I followed the path of it with my gaze, and naturally, it was tied to the bedpost. Tied wasn't quite the right word. Welded? The bedposts themselves were made of metal, and the chain was definitely not ever meant to be able to come off. I swallowed nervously, looking back up at Tord as he loomed over me. I felt myself shrink down more into the sheets, and I felt exactly like what I imagined he wanted me to- a pup getting scolded by its new owner for doing something wrong.

"I don't mind if you speak- I quite enjoy the sound of your pretty little voice- but be respectful, hm? I won't have you cursing or talking back. You'll lose your privilege. Don't make me take that away from you." What did that mean? Would he gag me? Drug me so much I couldn't talk? Cut out my tongue? Before I could let my mind continue to race through all of the terrible possibilities, he was speaking more.  
"If you want something, ask for it. You're not to get things for yourself, as you may not touch anything that is mine. You'll have toys and things to entertain yourself with, so you do not need to be trying to ever dig through my drawers, boxes, or cabinets. Are you listening to me? I mean it, Thomas. If I find you trying to get into anything, or open any doors you've not been given permission to do so, you're going to have to pay for it. Keep away from the windows for now. If you can be a good boy and do what I tell you, we won't have any problems. You'll find I'm quite a delight to be around, even with your circumstances. You might want to misbehave, given your new limited freedoms, but I assure you it wouldn't be in your best interest. If you thought the room was bad, you haven't seen anything yet, my dear."

I felt sick at his words, and nodded quickly. I was fighting the urge to vomit, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. It was hard to breathe. He grimaced, and I trembled, remembering what he said about speaking. I quickly attempted to correct myself, nervous at the disappointment in his eyes. "Y-yes sir?"

He was pleasant once more, like the flip of a switch, and patted my cheek. "You're learning" he praised. He ran his hand through my hair once more, scratching at me slightly. "I'm going to go downstairs to get you some food. Please remember what I said. Be good."

He walked out of the room without glancing back at me. I shifted in the bed, heart thudding in my chest. I remembered what I'd previously been told to do if I thought I was going to have a panic attack, closing my eyes and slowing my breathing. I fidgeted with the clip of the leash to have something to do with my hands, but didn't dare take it off. I kept myself busy until my breathing slowed, and I felt less like I was trapped in the middle of a hurricane. I huddled into the sheets, and kept my eyes closed. I imagined I was drowning, sinking slowly into a thick, inky black substance, filling every crack inside of my mind and soul-- and suddenly I was sitting up, snapping my head to the door. I could hear Tord coming up the stairs, humming slightly, and my stomach growled. Whatever he had absolutely smelled divine. When he entered the room, I perked up at the sight of the bowl, looking up at him nervously. He gave me a tight-lipped smile as he set it on the floor.

"Eat up."

-

My hands trembled as I clutched onto Tommie, looking at the ground. I think it had been 4 weeks since I was let out of the room. At first, after I recovered from my initial shock, I had attempted to retaliate against the man. That had never been a good idea. I was met with brutal beatings-- whips, chains, paddles, punches, kicks-- and more time in the room alone. He also wasted no time humiliating and terrorizing me. Though he claimed he had been waiting for me for a long time, he threatened to "slice me up like those disgusting prostitutes", and "hang that lithe, pretty pale body in the city among the strung lights". When he had pinned me against the wall, the blade of a knife against my neck, I had sobbed and wailed and cried like I hadn't before. On one hand, dying meant I didn't have to live through this anymore. But I still clung on to hope that I could get away. Recently, I had obeyed Tord as much as I could and had only suffered a few punishing blows for my mistakes. I was finding it harder and harder to feel anything but fear and disgust. I was more terrified of the man than I wanted to admit. It was hard to not shake constantly, and it wasn't a rare occurrence for me to have a panic attack. I felt very very broken.

No one was looking for me.

I was one less trouble on the streets.

I was going to die here.

Even if someone found me, no one would want me anymore.

I was disgusting.

Used.

Broken.

My breathing picked up, and I felt my chest burn, tears pricking my eyes as I started to rock back and forth slightly, a pained sob pulling at my throat.

"Thomas?" I heard the concerned call, and only squeezed onto Tommie (one of my "toys") tighter at the sound of his footsteps approaching me. I cowered, frightened sobbing taking over as I struggled to breathe. His shadow loomed over me, and I felt like passing out. I heard him tut slightly almost an irritated sigh, but he simply crouched down in front of me. I managed to give him a quick glance, and was not relieved even though he only wore a slight frown. I closed my eyes once more and kept a death grip on Tommie, letting out a shuddering gasp as I tried to force air into my lungs. He moved, shifting behind me, and strong, thick arms encircled my body, pulling me up against his chest. I struggled in my panic, managing small words that I don't think were really words, but he simply manhandled me, rearranging me a bit more so I couldn't do much in his grip. He shushed me, leaning forwards and soothingly murmuring in my ear, rubbing my back with a hand. "Thomas, darling. Come now, breathe in....yes, like that....now out. Slowly-- slowly. That's it. Come on Tom, I know you can do it. That's a good boy."

I managed to get myself back into a bit of control, and I slumped against his chest. I was exhausted, but my body still shook with tremors, and all I could do was wearily stare at the floor. I wanted to sleep. He stood, scooping me up with him. I dropped Tommie and let out a whine, confused as he plopped me onto the couch. He picked Tommie up for me, setting him in my lap as he walked around the sofa, grabbing a blanket that was tossed over the end. He pulled the blanket around my shoulders, wrapping me in it, and patted my head.

"We need to get these panic attacks under control, don't you think, dear? I already told you-- you're such a good boy. You have nothing to fear from me. I'll take care of you. Now, why don't you watch some cartoons and I can get you some food?" He didn't wait for an answer, but clicked on the TV and moved into the kitchen, whistling to himself.

I felt like a child. My head was confused, empty, and hurt. I just wanted to not feel any pain anymore. I wanted to not be on constant alert-- not to feel fear constantly eating away at me, hollowing out my body. I could do little these days but huddle around in anxiety, mind running rampant with fantasies of terrible outcomes. I was convinced this wouldn't last much longer-- that I'd be the next victim of Tord's list. After all-- I wasn't much better than the young boys he butchered, was I? I was sleeping around in the bars, the exact filth he always said he hated. He'd get tired of me soon. I was just a toy that he was losing patience with, based on his disappointment with my nightmares and terrors. I gave him a meek nod when he handed me the bowl-- and though I was infinitely grateful for him actually letting me use a bowl and spoon (a rare occasion for only when he was in the best of moods, and even rarer so on the couch), I was having a hard time settling my racing my mind. I nervously nibbled on some of the cereal, eyes glued to him instead of the TV. He was sitting in his armchair, a thin smile on his lips as he was flipping through his notebook. When I had asked what the little black notebook was for, I learned quickly that the notebook held names. Places. Dates. Victims. Prey.

I felt the nagging voice of my self-hatred in my head, masquerading as my father-- "You're worthless. Useless. Just a pretty little fuck. A Whore. No one will ever want you. You're used-- trash, leftovers. Dirty." A cold laugh-- "He's just going to fuck you and throw you away. Your guts will hang from the gutters."

The imagine was struck into my mind. I had seen his "work". I was cut at some joints to allow my body to be positioned gracefully. There was splashes of blood, like colorful brushstrokes in a painting. Flowers. White lilies and red carnations around my body. A single red rose. He was mourning me- though he had done it. My guts were spilled down over a lower roof. Hanging from the gutters like the strings of lights around my body. Flowers were neatly tucked into folds of them. At the bottom of the spill, a dead crow. My body was strung with something gold. The lights danced off of it, giving it an ethereal beauty. My eyes were closed, a smear of blood on my lips. The bowl dropped from my hands. It took a moment for the splash of milk and cereal all over the couch and floor to register with the clank of the spoon hitting the bowl as I was jerked back to reality. My head snapped to Tord's the moment his gaze snapped to mine. A wail of terror tore from my throat as he stood, and I scrambled backwards off of the couch, bolting to the nearest corner and cowering. I was bawling and spitting out apologies, and I couldn't help but ramble out my fears.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please please please please....Do-dont...I...I don't want you to throw me away! Please! I don't want you to get rid of me! I'm sorry! I don't want to die!"

He paused in his steps, confusion evident in his face as he tilted his head dangerously. "Thomas." His voice was stern.

I couldn't stop babbling things out in terror, falling into a horrified mantra of begging.

"Thomas!" His deep yell cut through the air and my crying, and I choked on my sob, shrinking myself even further into the floor. I felt like he had kicked me in the gut, but my jaw effectively snapped shut.

"....Thomas." He began again, standing over me. "....What is this nonsense about me 'throwing you away'?"

I blinked up at him, shaking as I struggled to make two words connect.

"Pet, I need you to answer me. Why do you think I'm going to get rid of you?" His tone was impatient, but also laced with curiosity.

I looked at my hands, digging my fingers into the carpet. "...I...I j-just...you...you....You've t-told me if I was b-bad you'd...That I'd.." I gave a nervous look at his notebook, abandoned on the side table. He followed my gaze, and looked back down at me, tossing up an eyebrow. ".....An.d....I...I just...I....I-im not...a good...pet.." I shuffled, more tears spilling down my face. "....I...I'm w-worthless" I hiccuped.

His featured softened as he sighed. "Thomas. Don't say that." He picked me up, and went to set me on the couch. He looked over the mess of it, and opted for the stairs, taking me to the bedroom. He laid me on the bed, and sat down next to me, his hand petting my hair. "I need to apologize to you. I didn't mean those things I said to you when I was angry. When you're bad, I just have to make sure you won't be bad again." His hands cupped my face, and he rubbed away tears with his thumbs. "I'll never get rid of you, love. I know your value. You're perfect. Beautiful. No one else sees how wonderful you are like I do. You'll always be with me so you'll get the love you deserve." He kissed my forehead and then smiled down at me. "..I'm only harsh on you sometimes because I need you to understand how important you are to me. I don't want you getting hurt. The world is a dangerous place. I'm here to protect you, okay?"

>> Tord's POV <<

He was stunning. His pale skin, cheeks flushed pink, bright blue eyes shining with unshed tears, pale lips slightly parted-- my breath was caught in my throat, and I felt possession swell in my chest over my precious little pet.

He's all mine. He gave a short nod, and suddenly leaned forward, embracing me. Now this! This was a wonderful step in his progress of his training. I knew he'd reach a point like this soon--- hopeless, struck with an all-consuming desire for affection and comfort, pained enough to seek it from the one who took it from him.

I leaned forward, gently easing him onto his back. His eyes widened slightly when I straddled him, and my hands slid under his shirt, feeling for his nipples. He shuddered in pleasure, a confused look covering his face as he let out a whimper. He bucked slightly, and closed his eyes,

"....Shhhh....just let me know if you want me to stop." I mumbled, though I knew the desire in my gut had no intentions of quitting even if he asked. I just wanted him to be wrapped in the allusion of safety. I knew it would be better for his progress if I halted when he requested, but I had stayed off of him for so long. "I'll make you feel so good, sweetheart, my good boy, my little spitfire" I praised in his ear.

His body shook, but this time in pleasure as I twirled my fingers around his nipples, pulling slightly. I leaned forward, unable to help myself from biting those soft lips. I tugged at the lower inbetween my teeth, grinning at the soft moan it tugged from the boy. His face was flushed and his lips shyly parted, giving in to the kiss. To my surprise, once my tongue slipped past his lips, he began to kiss back, timid and gentle.

This boy would be the death of me. He was perfect. His body, his eyes, the way he moved... I hated and relished the fact I struggled so much to maintain control around him. It was indescribably freeing to let go-- but this was not something I was used to. Not a single person had even the slightest idea of what I was. Of what I did. I was quick, organized, clean, efficient. I was not disoriented, hungry, impulsive-- everything I was whenever I laid eyes on Thomas for too long. I had even picked up the rate of my killings. My work was-- even rushed, I daresay. And I was not sloppy. The Red Butcher was not sloppy.

Yet Thomas tasted so sweet. I let out a rumbling growl, and his hands found my back, nervously clutching onto my body. I moved my head down, ravishing his neck with kisses and bites, groin twitching in interest at each keening moan I pulled from him. I could feel his own hard cock pressing against his boxers, and I reached a hand down, rubbing at him through his clothes. He gasped, eyes fluttering as he bucked his hips into my hand. I sat up for a moment, but only to grip onto his shirt, pulling it off of him and swiftly following with his boxers. I tossed the clothes elsewhere. I'd clean it up later.

He looked up at me with those blue eyes, panting, legs spread slightly and body limp. He looked so frightened- confused, searching for comfort and validation. Looking at me like I was his god. I couldn't hold it any longer. I leaned over to nightstand, and pulled out some lube, slicking up my fingers before slowly pushing into his hole. He was tighter than I thought he'd be. He let out a cry of pleasure, and jerked his hips up desperately, trying to hump against my body as I stretched him open. I let out a chuckle at his eagerness, leaning forward and showering his neck and chest in more kisses and bites. This was something familiar to him, in his new world of unfamiliarity. It seemed easy for my little pet to focus on this rather than the circumstances. I continued to open him up, searching, I knew I found his prostate when he let out practically a yell, his cock proudly pressed against my stomach.

I shifted over him, covering his small body with my own, and lined myself up with his hole. I slowly pushed the head of my cock in, and he gasped, gritting his teeth as I slowly eased into him. "Are you okay, little one?" I huffed as his nails dug into my back, and his thighs shook.

He gave a short not, managing a soft voice. "Y-yes...just...big."

I couldn't hold back the low laugh as I slowly began to thrust in and out of him. He relaxed once I began to pick up the pace slightly, growing more used to my size as we progressed. His eyes were hazy and glazed over, letting out growing cries and moans of pleasure. I couldn't help my eagerness as I pulled his legs up over my shoulders, angling myself downwards and practically bending the boy in half. I began to jackhammer into him, groaning and snarling as I plowed harder into him. His whole body was quivering, and yells of pleasure tore from his throat. His voice was a string of pleas and cries of pleasure, settling into a cry of "Tord Tord Tord Tord Tord!" as I listened to his collar's tags jingle about as they bounced with my thrusts. I can't believe I had held out this long. And god, I would never hesitate again. He was perfect. I knew he would be perfect.

I slammed into his prostate, and his back arched up, body thrashing when the orgasm overcame him. He came over both of our stomachs, but I wasn't quite ready yet. I pinned him down, hand around his throat as I groaned, leaning down over him completely. His legs slid off my shoulders when I shifted. "Thomas" I moaned into his ear, biting down onto his shoulder. I tasted blood in my mouth, but kept nibbling and sucking. He let out a weak yell as I came, my cock twitching as I emptied myself into him. I waited for a moment to gather my breath as he went limp, and I fell to the side, wrapping my arms around him. "...Thomas...."

He let out a sleepy coo, snuggling against my chest. "...T-T-Tord.."

I felt a grin fall across my lips as I pet his back.

"You belong to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much so far for the lovely comments. It means a lot to me! I was very nervous about sharing my writing, but I'm enjoying it so far.


	8. Ghosting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7- Ghosting
> 
> Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the "first" chapter for Disclaimer, Update Information, and other tags/warnings.

>> Edd's POV <<

Having Thomas in the house proved to be exhausting. The battle we fought was constant; we couldn't read each other's body language or emotions, and I was constantly struggling with the repercussions of our misunderstandings. Most often, Thomas ended up in my arms, crying, and I had to do my best to soothe the frail boy while also maintaining some facade. I found that if I seemed nervous, angry, upset, or even the slightest bit different than what he was used to, he felt he was treading on thin ice, and instantly became quite a mess to deal with. I unintentionally was finding out more of his "training", and I had to admit it was wearing me out. I never had children for several reasons, and admittedly, having Tom around was similar to what one might expect with having a new entire person constantly around you. I had been working my best from home at first, but I had to keep moving on. And Thomas was not going to leave the house until I felt confident enough that he was safe from Tord. 

Thomas was ever curious, and he always seemed delighted when I let him mess around with new things. I suppose the lack of most exciting stimulation made him easily entertained by the colored pencils, puzzles, and Sudoku I provided. Also television (Cartoons or animals- I couldn't risk him having to think about Tord or the news) did wonders for keeping him from being too much trouble. 

Matthew had began to come to the house while I was at the station. It gave me much needed time to pour my efforts into other tasks that didn't involve the Red Butcher, and gave Matt plenty of time to begin to gently find out what had happened to Thomas-- and if we could track Tord from it. Tom really did enjoy being around Matt, which was a relief. He was distressed at first with the idea of not being with me, but Matt really was fantastic at his job. I remember the first time Matt showed up, and he heard the doorbell. I simply let Matt handle figuring out why exactly Thomas felt it was necessary to stare at me intently, and then bolt to hide behind a chair when I didn't give him an answer. Turns out he could only be seen by certain people. And when he once got seen by mistake, something bad must have happened. Thomas reportedly had a panic attack, and Matt didn't press him on it further.

I struggled immensely with knowing when I should indulge Thomas in his habits, where he was most comfortable and happy, or when to try to push him to do things that are "socially acceptable". Matthew was stern with me to let him handle it, and he'd let me know of any changes or behaviors I should take on. So for now, I just had to feel fucking awful treating him like a puppy. He seemed so happy and content when I did so. It was comfortable. Safe. And god, I loved making him smile. I'd do anything I could to make him smile like that. But it hurt even more that I knew in a roundabout way, treating him like so made me feel good. It made Thomas happy, so it made me happy. I felt like vomiting. 

I rubbed my temple tiredly, forcing my eyes open after a fitful sleep. I rolled over, letting out a soft sigh to see Thomas curled in the sheets, still sleeping. He had nightmares so frequently that neither of us got much rest. I tried to have him sleep in the guest room at first. He didn't like that. It lasted a whole one night, and he'd been sleeping with me since then. I was running on sheer will and caffeine. Forcing myself to get out of bed was an uphill battle. I had to stifle my groan to keep myself from waking the boy up; I was much too tired to try to entertain him this morning. I scratched my stubble as I gazed at myself in the mirror of my bathroom. God, I looked like hell. Bags under my eyes, a slightly untamed 5 o'clock shadow, and my hair a bit unkempt. 

I slipped on a shirt, and stepped quietly downstairs in my boxers, grouchily starting the coffee pot. I entertained myself with shittily putting dishes in the dishwasher, but quickly abandoned my task when the coffee was ready. I poured myself a cup and greedily sucked it down as I headed towards the door to check for the mail. I unlocked it, and swung it open. 

I saw what was on my doorstep, and dropped the cup. 

It shattered.

The spray of glass showered down my steps, and a few made their way back over the threshold. I felt my heart in my chest thudding erratically, and I couldn't will air into my lungs. 

Neatly placed on my doorstep, centered in my doormat, was a very fancy bag of dog treats. A card was threaded onto it, a large blue bow on top. The handwriting on the front of the card ("Edd"), unfortunately was that of which I had the displeasure of reading before. I forced myself to snatch up the card, ripping it off of the bag in my haste, and angrily opening the card. 

"Dearest Edward, 

Take care of my Thomas, won't you? He's a very good dog, don't you think? He's quite a lovely boy to have around.  
I'll be in touch.

Tord Lareson"

I felt bile rise in my throat, and looked around off my porch, as if I expected Tord to be sitting on one of my chairs, waiting for me. I cursed, and slammed my door shut. I leaned against it as I twisted the lock, and quickly shut the deadbolt. I grit my teeth as I paced, tossing the card and the treats onto my countertop before making a rush around the house to pull all of the curtains shut. I dialed the station, but found little comfort in the knowledge that others were going to be involved. 

Tord had been here. How long had he been here? How long ago? Had he been watching Tom? Watching us? I hastily grabbed my gun as I threw on some clothes, still maintaining an anxious silence to keep Tom from waking. I wouldn't be able to hold my composure. 

I almost fell down the stairs when I mindlessly went to pace around my living room. What did this mean? I could hear his voice ringing in my head, a low, soothing purr, a hint of amusement and laced with malice.

_"I'll be in touch."_


	9. Hayloft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8- Hayloft  
> Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo boy a bit nervous about posting this one. Hope you enjoy.

>> Tom's POV <<

I laid in the grass, staring up at the sky. The grass tickled my skin, but the sun felt good and warm. Tord let me outside, for the first time, after much consideration and extreme self control on my part. I couldn't stand being cooped up in the house nonstop anymore. I couldn't. I wasn't even sure what I was supposed to do anymore. I didn't want to listen to Tord. But when he was kind... he treated me better than most of the men I slept around with. It was starting to not seem as bad. Maybe I could change his mind. His rules. We could be normal. I wouldn't tell anyone. We could dye my hair- we could - What the hell was I doing? Trying to rationalize a sociopath? Trying to pretend we could play dress up and act like everything was alright? That didn't turn out too well with my parents. 

Staring at the clouds was nice, except when it felt like I was drowning. They kept covering the sun, and I was reminded of just how cold I was, and how awkward it was to be outside. Naked. Just my collar. There was a pretty little dog house underneath a large oak tree towards the back corner of the yard, but I'd rather suffer the cold bites from the wind than go in it. The snatches of sunshine were addicting. I felt like I was getting drunk off of them, closing my eyes and imagining I was anywhere else but here. 

Tord wasn't even out here all of the time. He came in and out. I could try to make a break for it. But he was so strong, fast, calculating. I felt like a rabbit in a snare. Just enough give to provide a false sense of security. But the moment I strained against my little chain, I'd fail the test, and pay for it. I was terrified he would cut one of my legs off to stop me from going anywhere easily. I could tell he wasn't above it. And god, I didn't want to think what ran through his mind when he slept together. His eyes would stare, linger across certain curves and parts of my skin for far too long, with a predatory, fatal curiosity. I wondered if he was picturing what I would look like, covered in blood while he thrust into me or sunk his teeth into my shoulder. 

The rules outside were very clear. No yelling, screaming, or walking. The massive privacy fence ensured no one would be able to see me- they would only hear me if they so happened to also be outside. I could only crawl about. I suppose it was a saving grace that Tord seemed to take good care of the lawn, and soft grass was better than the hardwood floors inside. Besides; the thought of the look in his eyes as he made me repeat the rules back to him was enough to make me quake with fear. His words were laced with promises of horrors worse than the room. And I never wanted to go back to the room ever again. Ever. 

I felt like I was drowning again. I gripped the grass in my hands, tearing some out. I imagined it was my guts. The sun managed another faltering shine, and I closed my eyes once more, trying to rid the thoughts of punishments from my head. They made me fall apart. Tord said whenever I got too nervous, or felt unwell, I should try to focus on the present, and my breathing. I sucked in a shuddering breath, and spent awhile keeping the rise and fall of my chest to a soft rhythm. Once I felt grounded enough, I slowly sat up, and crawled my way towards Tord. 

He was standing on the large patio he had- in an apron of all possible things he could be wearing - busy at the grill. He was cooking steak and some vegetables, and god, the smell of the spices and the meat had be slobbering a bit. It wasn't that Tord didn't feed me good food. He was a fantastic cook but kept me on a strict diet since my arrival. I wasn't sure why, but he did promise he'd start cooking me "actual food" soon. As if the meals he were preparing (that were better than food I'd had in any restaurant I'd been in) weren't anything to gawk at. 

Plus, I couldn't remember the last time I had steak. I think I had a piece of one once? 

He looked down at me expectantly as I sat in the grass by the stairs. "...Yes, Thomas?"

I shifted my weight, looking up at him and tried to consider my words carefully. I'd been overly courteous and good to get my reward of outside, and I really didn't want to fuck up."...Master, I have to go to the bathroom. Can I go inside, sir?" I prompted. 

He stepped away from the grill, and descended the steps. He patted my head, looking at me as though I was being silly. "....Now Thomas, why do you need to go inside?" he chuckled. 

I tilted my head (Much like a confused dog, to my displeasure) repeating "I have to go to the bathroom" with a bit of a questioning tone. 

He let out a slight sigh, as if I was saying something wrong, or being stupid. ".....Dogs can pee outside, Thomas. Now go play" he waved me away, turning as he started heading back to the grill. 

I balked, my face heating up as I stuttered. "B-but..but..I..c-cant I go inside? P-please?" 

I felt anxiety claw in my gut as he spun back around, standing over my small frame. "...What did I just say?" he snarled, but it was a threat, not a question. I shouldn't have pushed him. I could either try to do damage control, or beg. The bigger part of me wanted to avoid being treated like this more than the part that wanted to avoid his rage. 

I cowered slightly, giving him a pleading look. Maybe if I looked pathetic enough? "...M-Master...I...I really...I...please dont make me.." I whimpered, averting my gaze quickly in a sign of submission. My heart was erratic in my chest, and I felt quite suddenly nauseous. I saw a movement in my peripherals, and I felt a firm hand clench around my collar. I let out a choked yelp as he began to drag me across the yard. I fell into a nervous chant of begging and whimpering, unsure of what was coming my way, and eager to avoid my fate. I half crawled half scrambled to keep up with his dragging, struggling for breath. He didn't slow down despite my clear struggling, and only stopped when we were by the doghouse. He let go of me haphazardly, and I fell forwards onto my stomach. He grabbed the end of the chain that was attached to the outside of the doghouse, and hauled me back up onto my hands and knees, clipping it onto my collar. He finally quit manhandling me, and I trembled.

"Now Thomas...I think you need a little reminder about your obedience" he hissed. His gaze clawed over me, and I nervously shook, doing my best to stay in the position he left me in. I felt like he was picking me apart with his eyes, and I couldn't get myself to glance up higher than his shoes. "If I say something, you do it. If you ask me something, and I tell you no, you don't ask again. Is that clear?"

"Y-Yes sir!" I yipped back, vigorously nodding. Just as I thought I perhaps had gotten away with it, he shifted his position, staring at me coldly. 

"..Now go."

"W-what?"

"Piss."

I sputtered.

"Like a dog." He corrected, shrugging slightly, and his tone suggested that that made this better, somehow. 

There was no easy way out of this. I either did what he said, or didnt-- which would certainly earn me a beating or worse. I felt tears prick at my eyes, and I hesitated. He seemed displeased, and the fear that he was going to hit me pushed me to try. I lifted one leg up as I'd seen dogs do before. It truly was hard to get my body to want to do anything when I was this nervous, but I managed to force myself to go, feeling an unbearable heat in my face from the embarrassment. 

He crouched down when I was done, grabbing my face in his hands and scratching at my cheeks. "...What a good boy. See? Was that so hard, pet? See how nice it is to be a good boy?" I hated that my heart was responding to the praise. I couldn't help feeling fuzzy and lightheaded whenever good words came from him, despite the fact that I was now crying and it didn't seem to bother him. He ruffled my hair and began to walk back to the grill. I crawled forward slightly, letting out a soft yip when I met the extent of the leash that chained me to the doghouse. 

He looked back over his shoulder, and gestured to the sky. "....I have to get finished cooking, dear. A storms coming. I need to get inside." He stated and ignored my confused and pleading looks in his direction. He was right-- you could smell the rain in the air, and it was getting much colder. The clouds had become darker, and it didn't seem like anything good was going to be coming in this direction. 

Storms always made me nervous. The sudden bursts of light, the loud, earth-shaking thunder, the unpredictable factor of it all; I couldn't handle them. I often found myself taking some Xanax I got off the street or from a man at Eddie's bar to settle down when I knew one was coming. I tried to ignore the idea that perhaps Tord was going to leave me outside. He wouldn't right? 

But I was a bad dog. I was bad. I questioned him and this is part of the punishment. 

I tried to convince myself I was wrong, but he continued to move things indoors when distant thunder rolled in. I began to whimper and cry, constantly switching positions from cowering in my doghouse to straining at the leash and shamelessly bark-yapping at Tord like a dog. I couldn't yell, but I could do this. When the first few droplets hit the ground, I was close to hysterical. 

He walked over to me finally, and I bolted for his legs, clinging to him desperately as I damn near strangled myself from straining against the chain. 

"What's wrong Thomas?" he cooed. At the moment, I missed the condescending tone he took. He looked down at me, ignoring the jumble of words I was spitting out. "Of course I know you're afraid of storms, Thomas. I told you-- I've had you picked out for a very long time, pup" he scoffed, a smug look about him. So he had done this on purpose. Was he really going to leave me out here? God, I didn't mean to make him so upset. Why did I have to question him? Why did I have to be bad? A flash of lightning and a roar of thunder had me letting out a startled gasp of fear to which Tord responded with a light chuckle. He grabbed for my collar, and unhooked me from the doghouse. The moment I felt the give of it off of my neck, I was forcing myself up into his arms, clinging to him. He hauled me into his arms, and I wrapped my arms around his neck in a death grip, hiding my face in his neck as I sniffled in terror. With agonizing precision, he carried me into the house, out of the spitting rain, moments before it began to pour down. It was as if the damn weather itself was coordinating with him. The whole fucking world was against me.

He had dinner set up for himself on the table. A large pillow I used around the house as a dog bed when I wanted to be by him was set underneath the table, by his seat. He set me down on the rug inside, and I immediately crawled onto it to have something to snuggle with, wide-eyed as he shut the blinds to block out the sudden storm. He hummed to himself for quite awhile, and I could hear him eating. The food smelled so good. Hunger was starting to creep back into my mind after the fear and shock of the previous events. I think he was thumbing through his book as he took his sweet damn time. Eventually, a hand snaked under the table. Was he holding--? I followed my nose. 

My mouth was almost on his fingers when his voice, steady and calm, rang through to me. 

"Easy." 

I slowed myself, gently taking the piece of steak from his fingers and licking them.

"Good boy."

 

The rest of the dinner went by with him feeding me little pieces, bit by bit. It was a variety of food: steak, vegetables, even some desert. It was a harsh contrast to having been outdoors. The message was clear: behave. 

The night ended with me sprawled against his chest in bed. He stayed awake, reading, as we waited out the storm.


	10. Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9- Problems 
> 
> Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> Sorry about the sudden dry spell. We're back! A bit of a short one to kick us back off. Hope you guys enjoy. Thank you so much for the nice comments. It means a lot!

>> Edd's POV <<

I clutched the coffee cup tightly in my hands, staring at the dark drink intently. I was terribly stiff, but I couldn't get myself to relax- in stance or in mind. My kitchen was a goddamn mess at this point, papers and notes scattered all over the island, and I was making every excuse I could to not look at it. Even if I wasn't put together, I preferred if my house was. And while it was at the moment, the most petty, insignificant thing in the world, a messy house on top of Tord's 'lovely' note was just an extra stress factor that was pushing me closer to snapping. 

I was using the island as an elbow rest (thus making looking at any of the papers on my side useless, but I wasn't really paying any attention. Paul was across from me, taking a drag of his cigarette (honestly, how many times did I have to tell the man to not smoke in my fucking house?). He had gotten here surprisingly fast, considering that he and Pat didn't live exactly close to me. The early hours weren't exactly convenient either. He had somehow managed to also swing by and pick up Matthew- and Patryck decided to tag along. For once, I was thankful. Normally I wouldn't allow additional distractions in my house, but Thomas needed attention that I couldn't provide right how. I was too jumbled, and I wasn't the rock he needed. 

I had managed to explain to Thomas that something "important" from work required the company without falling apart or making it too noticeable how shaken I was. He wasn't thrilled at the concept of meeting Pat and Paul, but the comfort of Matthew (whom he adored) was a welcome addition. 

It was almost ironic how Pat and Matt handled Thomas's situation and mental state better than Paul and I. Even though it was, literally, Matthew's job, I had the awful habit of underestimating him in moments when I felt I wasn't adequate. He continued to prove to me exactly how adequate he was. I forced myself to look up from my coffee, looking over into the connecting living room. Pat and Matt sat on the floor, cooing over Thomas, who was soaking up all of the attention given to him. He apparently decided that Patryck was just as much of a cuddling partner as Matthew. He was showing them some drawings he had been working on lately, and introducing Pat to Tommie.

I looked back down at my coffee, and then to my left- to stare at the bag of dog treats resting on one of the counter tops. I had to dig the treats out of the garbage. I had been unable to resist the urge I had gotten to throw them in the bin when Paul was on his way with the crew. Paul had been talking this entire time, but I was tuning in and out of his words, having a hard time focus. But the end of a sentence ripped me back to reality. 

"....and thats why we need to move Thomas."

My head snapped back towards him, and I almost dropped my mug. "...Excuse me?" I was aware that my voice had raised an octave only when I heard Matthew redirecting Thomas's attention back to the cartoons they were watching. I looked over at them, and caught Pat giving me a glare over his shoulder as he pet Tom's head. I took the hint, making a note to lower my voice. 

When I looked back at Paul, I could tell he dug his heels in. Christ, the man was painfully stubborn when he thought he was right. Unluckily for him, so was I. He put his cigarette out, staring at me with a piercing gaze as he did so. He was never a friendly looking man. The scar that marred part of his face, the eternal scowl; it was enough to send most of our underlings scattering whenever he raised his voice. But I was never afraid of Paul- I'd known him most of my life. 

"Edd. I know you don't want to do this, but he's in more danger than he is before. And so are you. We need to get you two out of this location until we apprehend Tord." 

"No."

The steel in my voice was enough to push him off guard- I rarely got aggressive. "I'm not letting you move him anywhere. He still doesn't understand whats going on, and it needs to stay that way for now. His mental state is obviously fragile. Are you going to break him like Tord did?" I snapped, my voice a harsh whisper. "He's comfortable here, and he's comfortable with me. And if Tord wanted to kill me-- I hate to fucking say it, Paul, but if that was his plan, I don't think I'd be talking to you right now. We both know he's more than capable. Him leaving the....bag...on my doorstep was just a part of his game. There's nothing you can do to change my mind, Paul. I'm the one in charge here. I call the shots. Not you." 

I registered the anger in his eyes, but I didn't apologize. I had to be truthful. I had to put my foot down every once in awhile. I was an easy going guy for the most part, but god fucking damn it if I wasn't going to play this my way. Tord was enough of an unknown variable; I didn't need others getting in my way as well. 

Paul's jaw was stiff, but he simply lit up another cigarette, taking a drag before submitting. "Whatever you say, boss." He dismissed himself to go stand on the deck in the backyard, and I let him go. He needed a moment to cool off- that much was clear. 

\----

I was sprawled out on the sofa, tiredly watching some movie about someone who- in my opinion- had way too many dogs. But the way Thomas's eyes lit up when we found the movie on TV was something none of us could say no to. He was snuggled against my chest, sleepily nuzzling at me on occasion. He was snuggled firmly against my chest, nuzzling at me on occasion. Matthew was sitting on a pillow-bed he made on the floor (and quite honestly, was enjoying the movie as much as Tom), and Pat and Paul were snuggling on my recliner. Paul was snoring slightly. 

Tom looked down Matthew, tilting his head. "...When are you gonna go home, Matt?" 

Matthew gave Thomas a smile, reaching over and ruffling his hair. "....Paul, Patryck and I are going to stay here with you and Edd for a few days. Won't that be fun?" 

I wasn't the first to admit I needed help but I accepted it quickly when it was offered. My mind was spinning, and having some extra eyes around would do me some good. I could sleep knowing that Paul was in the house. 

Thomas smiled, letting out an excited yelp. "Like a party?"

Matthew immediately was scribbling down something in his notebook. I pet Tom's head and sleepily nodded. "Yeah, sure, like a party."

"I haven't had a sleepover in forever!" Thomas chimed, turning back to the movie. Matthew handed his notes to me when he was done, and I read the words scrawled across the page.  
'Thomas mentioned a sleepover/party, which is recalling something from a normal childhood. This is one of the first times he's mentioned something not from Tord's training. That's a good note for him making   
an effort towards opening up.'

I allowed myself to smile. Matthew was right. 

Maybe Thomas really could get better.


	11. All Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10- All Gone
> 
> Past

>> Tom's POV <<

 

I hated to admit it, but I was terribly bored. When Tord wasn't around (which was more often than I thought it would be), I didn't have much to do. I wasn't permitted to do much, anyways. I was always worried I'd forget some rule, so I typically ended up spending more time than I would have liked huddled in my bed, in Tord's bed, or soaking up a nice little patch of sun from a window. I was a roamer at heart, and this was not helping. The only thing I'd even found that helped a tiny bit was sitting in a chair upstairs by one of the yard-facing windows, and staring out of it. I spent most of the time there struggling to restrain myself from trying to break it, but usually came to my senses that if Tord found any hint of that it would be bad news. I wasn't really supposed to be near the windows- but in my defense, no one would be able to see me from this angle unless they had binoculars or a camera and were specifically looking to see someone.

And no one was looking for me.

However, today, my thoughts had a lot less to do with breaking the window and much more to do with Tord's strange mood. He left in a hurry this morning- and he was much more irritable than he tended to be. Sometimes, when we were laying together, and I was dozing off, he'd talk to me. About his life, about other things- and I tried to pay attention, but embarrassingly enough the petting was always so pleasant I never held on long enough to hear much. From what I gathered, he did some sort of stressful job, dealing with people (who were much to ignorant, rude, and tedious for his attention) that ran him up a wall.

The sex we had last night proved at the very least that he was stressed. He was rougher than he typically was, and I had the bite marks and bruises to prove it. Maybe he had overslept because of the sex? It wouldn't be the first time I made a man late because of a night he spent with me. God, I hope he didn't actually think it was my fault.

Regardless, there wasn't much I could do but wait for him to come home anyways. What was I supposed to even do anymore? When I wasn't with him, I wished I was; When I was with him, I was always walking a thin line of terror and joy. I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't want to be with Tord. On the other hand, he wasn't always bad- and that was of course, ignoring the fact I was being held against my will and treated like I was his dog- and he was capable of love and affection.

I groaned, burying my head in my arms as I huddled in the chair I'd taken to, fighting off the urge to cry. I was so, so sick of crying. I was tired of waking up at night, struggling to breathe after a nightmare, only to realize I was waking up from one to live in another.

It was--

What was that?

Fear clawed at my stomach, and I sat up straight in the chair, twisting my head around towards where I heard the sound come from. What. Was. That? Had Tord come back home? Had I somehow missed him coming in through the front door? The sound came from up here. Upstairs. With me. I slid off of the chair, and slowly crept towards the hallway, poking my head out of the room.

"...Master?" I called, pausing and waiting for an answer to my trembling voice. Tord never came home without coming to me first (actually, without me bolting to him as quickly as possible; partly because he expected it, and partly because I couldn't help it). But he had been being strange that morning- maybe he forgot? Was he mad at me? There was no answer.

"Master!" I tried again, in vain. Feeling a bit more bold, I started down the hallway, stopping before the door I was certain the noise had come from. His office. The noise came from his upstairs office. What was in there? Was it someone else? Was I not the only one? Was it a burglar (which at this point, ironically, would probably be a blessing? [I was still supposed to want to leave, right?]) ?

Against my better judgement, I decided to try to get inside. I wasn't allowed in his office, but the door was always locked anyways. Except it wasn't. I stood, frozen in shock when the door swung open.

Tord never left this door unlocked, even when he was home, and was inside of it. Was he really that out of it?

\--

I didn't know what I was expecting. I guess some part of me thought maybe it was some convoluted torture room (though I'm quite sure that was in the basement), or that there was a body, but it looked like a normal fucking office. It was frustratingly neat, as most of Tord's things were- except a book that had toppled over onto the floor. Some pictures had fluttered out of it, and scattered across the hardwood. That must have been the noise that frightened me. It had been knocked over by wind. Wait, wind?

An open window.

An open window?

An open _fucking_ window.

I gripped the door frame to keep myself from falling over. What was I supposed to do? We were on the second floor- I didn't really want to jump out-- did I even want to leave? Should I leave? Where do I go? Neighbor? Keep running? Just go? Stay? Where would I go after? Who would believe me? That some fucking outstanding member of the community held me in his house against my will, and was actually killing people? It sounded crazy to me- and I knew it was the truth. It all sounded crazy. This was crazy. I was crazy.

My mother didn't even want me anymore. If no one believed me, where was I supposed to go? "Home"? What if Tord came after me? He'd never let me go, would he? In that case, what was the point in trying? But this was the first- and possibly only- chance I would ever get to leave Tord. I felt like vomiting.

\--

I'm not sure what made me look down. I'm not sure I'm glad I did.

One of the pictures that fell out of the book was near me. I instinctively picked it up, and glanced it over, eager for some distraction to halt my racing mind. It was taken with professional quality, and there was a date penned neatly on the back of it in Tord's handwriting. The date was... Last night.

The body was strung up with thin, red string. If I didn't know it was a real person- had been a real person- I might be naive enough to think it was beautiful. There was a rhythm to the strings, a precise pattern- neat cuts to position it as needed- blue eyes- brown hair- pale skin- me - me - me - me - Me.

The boy looked like me. An awful fucking lot like me. The whole thing looked like it was handled with too much care. It struck me.

**Tord was going to kill me.**

Was this why he had been so agitated this morning? Is this why he came home, and immediately hauled me upstairs? He couldn't control himself, could he? He wanted to kill me, so he went out and found someone else who resembled me so that he could do it. Kill me without killing me. He had gone and killed someone because of me. How many more boys was he going to kill because of me? How many before he actually killed me?

**Tord was going to kill me.**

"Thomas?"

**Tord was going to kill me.**

When had the front door opened? Why didn't I hear him call the first time? His footsteps- he was coming upstairs- I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. I still clutched the picture in my hands. I bolted towards the window. Half of my body was out before I felt the painful grip in my hair, hauling me backwards. My head was spinning. Nothing made sound. I think I was yelling. He looked livid. The window snapped shut as he threw me onto the floor. And in that moment, my chance at escape, my chance at living, my chance of anything good ever happening in my life again, was over. My body didn't want to move. I don't know if I'd ever seen him this angry. I tried to get to my feet and run down the hall. His hand closed all too easily around my throat, lifting me up off of the floor and slamming me into the wall. The wind left me, and I clawed helplessly at his hands.

**Tord was going to kill me.**


	12. Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11- Free
> 
> Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> As promised- not dead or abandoned. Just super busy :') 
> 
> NSFW in this one!

>>Edd’s POV<<

The passing days were strikingly uneventful. Paul was growing visibly more agitated (he always was one for his personal time), and I was hurting for some solitude as well. Thomas seemed to be enjoying the company, which was the only thing that made my cramped house tolerable.

I would be lying if I said I hadn’t mixed some whiskey in my coffee the past few mornings.

As days went on, and we had no sight or sound of Tord in our midst, we decided Paul, Pat and Matt could return to the comfort of their own homes. Paul (grumpily) decided that I was safe enough with Thomas, and acknowledged that this wasn't a sustainable setup. With the three extra presences out of the house, it was peacefully quiet once more. I, however, still had a dilemma to solve: Thomas. He couldn't come with me to the station every single day; Was I just supposed to leave him in my office while I went out on calls and dealt with the public? I couldn't just drop him in on Matthew's work- and he was still very much a work in progress when it came to remembering how to behave properly around others. It had done him well to have several people in the house to remind and reteach him, but I wouldn't exactly want to put him in the stress of strangers right now.

I didn't want to leave him alone, but there wasn't enough resources or people that I trusted enough to keep an eye on him.

So he had to stay alone at the house.

Matthew volunteered to check in on him as much as possible, which usually consisted with him rushing over during his lunch break to make sure Thomas had a lunch, and was still well at the house. Even with Matt's confirmation of Tom's well-being, I still found myself rushing home every night, as if I would come home to a missing boy. He tended to greet me at the door, and I found evidence of him having spent his time sprawling on the sofa, watching cartoons, or making a mess of the living room floor drawing. When he didn't greet me, he typically was napping in the living room or upstairs. I knew he had to be bored of the same old activities every day, and with my day off tomorrow, I decide I'd take him out shopping. It would be a good step towards getting him to "normal" things again. It would be nice to get him new things to do. And a haircut. And more clothes.

Pulling up to the house, everything seemed to be in order as I balanced my coffee mug, my bag, and my keys as I went to the front door. It was getting obnoxiously cold out lately, and a storm was certainly on its way. Today seemed to be no different than his usual routine: he was cross-legged on the floor with a sketchbook, pencils all over the floor, and the TV playing cartoons. I tiredly put my belongings on my kitchen's island, mumbling a tired "Hello Thomas" as he hopped up to greet me. I stretched, scratching at my stubble before sleepily returning the hug he gave me. My eyes drifted over the rest of my kitchen- which was in a state I did not leave it in.

“….I see Matthew came by today.” I droned, shoulders sagging at the prospect of having to clean the dirty dishes and counter tops.

“Yeah! He made me Mac and Cheese” Tom quipped, releasing me from his hug and standing there expectantly, waiting for instructions.

“I see.” I noted, letting out a slight sigh at the messy, cheesy pot and bowls set around.

“Let me clean the kitchen up and we can watch something before bed.” I offered, watching Thomas nod and walk back into the living room. Despite my efforts, the boy still needed quite a bit of guidance in what to do. When he was interacting with other people, he was always looking for some sort of order to obey. I found that the time alone in the house was actually helping him a bit, since he had to entertain himself without assistance, and I hoped the things we would purchase tomorrow would help him continue to make decisions for himself again.

Matthew was obviously helping as well; despite the man's occasionally childish personality, I seriously doubted he chose a lunch of mac and cheese. Thomas must have picked it out. Damn young people and their junk food.

My tired thoughts were interrupted by a piercing sound from the television, coupled with a yelp of surprise from Thomas. I damn near dropped the bowl I was washing, cursing in frustration as I turned the water off.

“Jesus-fucking—” I hung over the sink from my scare, letting out a slight sigh of annoyance at the realization it was just a warning for “severe thunderstorms and flash flooding”.

Thomas looked anxious, nipping at his nails as he headed over to the kitchen, choosing to stand idly at the island instead of being alone in the living room. He was fidgeting with his pencil in one hand, and kept glancing at the windows. Recalling that he was afraid of storms, I tried to make conversation with him, and had him help me with the dishes to give him something to do. It seemed to be working, and he was explaining in great lengths something about snakes.

After I finished reclaiming my kitchen from Matt’s cooking terrors, I migrated with Thomas up to my bedroom (which he stubbornly had also taken over as his). We typically laid together and watched something until we fell asleep. We never were awake for long. We were watching some documentary on animals, with the volume cranked up to try to lower the impact of the rain, wind, and thunder. I pet Thomas with one hand, struggling to keep my eyes open.

>>Tom’s POV<<

Edd’s hand tangled through my hair, soothing and steady. I found myself staring at him more than I was the TV. I wanted to speak up, to let him know that I appreciated all of this. That I felt good when I was with him. But I couldn't bring myself to speak. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I shifted a bit closer to him. He sleepily patted my head, but didn't say anything or move.

Edd made me feel safe. He made me feel loved. I wasn’t afraid of messing up when I was with Edd. I wasn’t afraid that saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing- hell, looking the wrong way- was going to land me into isolation or pain. But despite all of that, I was in pain. My chest felt tight. Why did I have to feel like this? I was supposed to love Tord. Not Edd. I was supposed to love Tord and only Tord. That’s all that mattered. That was the one thing I was supposed to do. I was messing up everything Tord wanted me to do lately- but Edd and Matt seemed to be happy about it.

When was I going to see Tord again?

Would I see him again?

Did I even want to?

I moved quickly, straddling Edd before pressing my lips to his. I needed to not think. I wanted to not feel anything but good, and I needed help. He jerked beneath me, eyes flying open.

“Thomas-I- uhm- well” he stuttered, face heating up. He had a slight blush to his face, and he was terribly stiff.

“Not now.” I whined, burying my head in his neck. I let my hands wander onto his chest, and slid them down so I could reach under his shirt.

He seemed to fight himself, struggling internally with the morals of the situation, before a gentle hand rested on my head, and a hesitant one found its way onto my hip.  
I was quick to impatiently tug his shirt off him and entertained myself with licking and pulling at his nipples. I couldn’t keep a smile off my face at how sensitive he was. I bit at one teasingly, giving him a grin as I did so. He fixed me with a slight glare and let out a playful growl as he flipped us over, leaning over my body with his own. He looked down at me for a moment, eyes traveling over my body before leaning forwards. His lips ghosted over my neck and collarbone, and he worked his way from gentle kisses to sharp nips.

“Are you going to keep acting like I’m made of glass, or are you going to actually fuck me?” I managed. I was surprised with my ability to joke with Edd when so many emotions were in turmoil in my mind, but I couldn't help but feel at ease. It was strange to be able to be sassy, to interact with parts of myself that I had to turn off while I was with Tord.

God, I’m thinking about Tord agai- Oh.

I let out a sharp gasp when Edd’s teeth bit into my neck.

"Is that more your style?" he purred, sucking on the sore skin from his bite. He seemed pleased with the hickey he left, and gripped my wrists in one of his hands. I couldn't help but feel myself flush, squirming against his grip slightly just to feel how strong he was. He kept his grip with ease, and occupied himself with raiding his nightstand. He released me once he found his target, and he tossed the lube down on the pillows next to me as he worked on tugging off my shorts and boxers. I was already quite hard, and I glanced up at him with a slight smile as his hand ran down my stomach towards my cock. He paused, having a somewhat concerned look as he ran his hand back up to my face, cupping it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he murmured, waiting for a sign of confirmation before continuing.

 

“With you? Yes. Yes. Always.” I managed, pushing my hips upwards to assist him as he began to stretch me open.

\----

The only sounds that filled the house were the groans of the bed, the labored breath of Edward, and my screaming. I hoped I wasn't being too loud, but quite frankly, with the pleasure exploding in my body I couldn't help it. Edd was, in one word- fantastic. God he was so utterly fantastic. He was thicker than I anticipated, but that certainly wasn't a problem. I wasn't one to complain when I got more than I bargained for. I was on my stomach, ass in the air as I used my elbows to keep myself propped up. I gripped the bottom of the headboard, desperate for something to offer resistance to Edd's powerful thrusts. He wasn't showing any signs of slowing, though at this point I was almost sobbing, shuddering gasps of pleasure pulling from my throat as I struggled to communicate.

“God-fuck-Edd! Your cock! Fuck! I need to come-!” I cried.

He let out a grunt of pleasure, giving me a playful grin as he slammed into me once more. “Then come.” He teased, and picked his pace back to the one he had set before. With his thick cock slamming into me, I wasn’t able to keep myself together, and I came, screaming his name. He kept going, holding me up against him with one arm, bracing himself with the other on the headboard. He came with a low cry of “Thomas!” shortly after, and we rolled onto our sides, breathing heavily. The rain and thunder on the window seemed distant now, and the only thing that mattered was the moment we shared between us. He pet my hair, and gently kissed my forehead.

“I love you.”


	13. Angry Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12- Angry Sea
> 
> Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder of the tags for this fic. Shorter one this time, my apologies!

>>Tom's POV<<

The scream that tried to tear from my throat was pitifully silent. My hands feebly grappled with Tord's, a pleading look in my eyes and a strangled whimper all I could manage. A fear of an intensity struck me that I had not felt since the night I met him. He practically threw me into the desk, my body colliding with the side and taking the air right out of my lungs. I had knocked off most of the tidy belongings with my impact, and I heard Tord yelling something but didn't comprehend it through my terror. By the time I managed a tiny gasp of air and had the ability to try to move, his hand was on my back, shoving me down into the wood.

A hand wrapped around the back of my neck, and as much as I squirmed and tried to push myself up, I couldn't get the purchase I needed. He let out a low snarl, leaning over my body with his own.

"Were you really so fucking arrogant to think you could get away from me? After all this time? You belong to me, Thomas" he hissed, forcing himself inside of me, ignoring my cries. "You can't help being a bad dog, can you?"

Why was this happening to me? Why was he doing this? Why? Why? Why?

"T-Tord, p-please! Please stop. P-please, I'll be good, I'll be good. I didn't mean to, Tord!" I fell apart, unable to do anything but fall into a mantra of "please stop".

 

He didn't.

\---

I fell to the ground off the side of the desk, shrinking away from the man that loomed over me. I leaned over and tried to vomit, but only dry heaved. He had already put himself back together, looking down at me like I wasn't worth his time. Tord looked to be himself once more, no longer overtaken by excessive rage. He was condescending. Disappointed.

 

I couldn't stop sobbing, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up into myself and die. What had happened to any of the love he'd shown me? I didn't deserve this. 

 

A cruel hand tangled itself in my hair, and Tord jadedly dragged me down the stairs. I stumbled along, whining and begging, but he didn't seem like he could even hear me. My complacent attempt to keep up turned into a full blown struggle when I realized we were headed down to the basement. Back to the room. But my small frame was pitiful compared to his muscular one. My throat was raw and aching from my cries, and I let out one last desperate yell as I was shoved back into the place I never wanted to see again. I jumped forwards, trying to make it out, but the door slammed in front of me. I uselessly crashed against it, beating on the door with my hands as I heard it lock. Tord's footsteps could be heard going away from the door, and up the stairs. I couldn't keep myself standing, and crumpled against the wall, burying my head in my hands. The pain in my chest felt like my heart had been ripped out. 

 

I was going to be with Tord forever. He didn't even love me anymore. Nobody loved me. He was going to kill me this time, wasn't he? 

 

I was going to die alone. 

 

>>Tord's POV<<

 

One step forward, three steps back. I had anticipated such an outburst from Thomas that would lead me to have to rope him back in to more training, but the timing was hilariously poor. As I closed the basement door, I could no longer hear my puppy wailing downstairs, and was able to wander in my mind in peaceful silence. I moved swiftly up the stairs to my office, and began the meticulous process of picking up my belongings and putting them back in place. 

 

What a mess. 

 

I never meant for Tom to see or know of his dead look-a-like. I admit that I'd shown a shocking lack of control the past two days, and I was quite disgusted with myself. I had been unable to focus lately; every time I took Thomas to bed, every time my hand closed around his neck, pet his hair, looked at those baby blue eyes- I couldn't help but be curious what he'd look like as one of my projects. A delicate flower among a bouquet, blood as strokes of color, the gentle glow of lights strung up with the body. 

 

I would never hurt Thomas. I'd spent too long picking him out and grooming him to let anyone else touch him. Thomas would be a masterpiece, but not of my usual sort. He'd be a beautiful piece, hidden away for me to admire. 

 

I also had never intended to kill that boy- at least now. It wasn't time, and it didn't fall into my schedule. I was agitated that Edd had been sniffing around and getting a bit closer to identifying me, and suffered from a fit of rage. I rarely lost my composure. It just so happened that I lost my composure with that boy then, and with Tom just now. It would take more to put him back together this time, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. 

 

He'd still come to curl up at my feet at night, still long for my touch and greet me when I came home. 

 

Oh how I love dogs. 


	14. Oh Ana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13- Oh Ana
> 
> Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much on all of your super sweet comments! It really means so much to me. I was super nervous about sharing my writing with others and it's helped me gain a bit of confidence. I'm primarily an artist, so writing is sort of something I never felt I was very good at. 
> 
> I'd like to apologize again for the erratic updates- November-December is always such a busy time. Hopefully I can be a bit more regular soon so we can finish this fic. 
> 
> Regardless, once again thank you!

>>Edd’s POV<<

I let out a low groan, swatting angrily at the alarm on my nightstand. The beeping was absolutely fucking grating. Even while I wasn't going to go in to work today, sleeping in wasn't really my thing. I tried on several occasions to do so, but it was impossible for me to not pop awake like clockwork. Thomas on the other hand liked to sleep in late--Thomas.

My face flushed as I recalled last night's events, and I glanced down at the boy. He was sprawled over me, an arm and a leg laying over my body, and his head using my chest as a pillow. He looked peaceful enough. His hair was an absolute mess, however. Removing myself from underneath him was a challenge, considering he was quite grumpy about the ordeal, grumbling and shifting about. I managed to slip off into the bathroom without waking him, squinting in irritation at the lights. I took a moment to observe the several hickeys scattered on my body, with a focus on my neck. Fantastic. I spent most of my shower standing motionlessly in the stream of water.

I couldn't get Thomas off of my mind. It distracted me from my usual morning routine to the point of making me miss my fucking mug and pour coffee all over my hand and counter top. It wasn't that I regretted last night- honestly, it was the happiest I'd been in years. My job was lonely and stressful. Coming home to no one, being practically married to my work- it wasn't enjoyable. I had on and off feelings for Matthew, but in my mind, our living habits weren't compatible. I didn't want to ruin our friendship by dating him, and I absolutely didn't want to break his heart. There were also a whole slew of problems that came with dating a coworker.

Though I suppose there was even more problems when you decided to fuck the boy in your protective custody.

What was I going to tell Paul? He was going to find out, one way or another. I could already hear the man screaming at me. I might be the boss around here, but god he still was adamant on giving me hell whenever I fucked up. Honestly, Matt was probably going to give me hell too. Sleeping with Tom was, by all accounts, a terrible idea.

But he was so soft. How could I say no to those eyes? That face? That body? I mean honestly, he would've been more hurt if I had refused him, wouldn't he?

The best defense I had was, childishly, "well he started it".

For the first time since I started this job, I felt so painfully inadequate and unqualified.

I heard the water start to run upstairs, and I rubbed my hands over my face with a small sigh. Hopefully things between Thomas and I wouldn't be weird. Everything was going to be fine... right?

-

Drawn downstairs by the smell of the eggs and bacon I was cooking, it didn't take long after his shower for Thomas to come trotting down the stairs. I glanced up to greet him -- for God's sake.

He was wearing one of my shirts (and nothing fucking else), a bright smile on his face and red-purple hickeys on his neck.

"Edd? The pan is smoking."

"Oh- fuck- right." I hastily sputtered, turning my attention back to our breakfast. This was not a good omen for me. I wanted to sleep with him again and it'd been 5 minutes. At least one of us wasn't making it awkward- he was sitting and watching TV, usual. If anything, he was happier than he had been recently.

\-----

Today we were going to be traveling outside of the house together. I was going to lose my damn mind if I spent the whole day cooped up inside with him. At least running errands would keep my mind off of running through every possible negative outcome due to our fling. And if my options were stay at home and suffer or take him out on a... "date" (for lack of a better word. This is not a date. This is not a date. This is not a date!), I was going to take him out. Besides, it was a good exercise in doing something normal for him. This was all for him.

Of all things, I didn't expect to be bombarded with questions from him during our drive:

"...I don't remember that being there. When did that happen?"

"What is that building over there?"

"Is there still a pet store nearby? I like petting the dogs."

At the very least, he was openly reconnecting with the area. Though I couldn't help but grimace at hearing "dogs".

-

 

Our second stop was getting him a proper haircut- then dinner, ice cream, and lastly, of course petting some dogs.

Our first stop was getting him some more fitting clothes. I'd purchased him some things here and there, but it would be good for him to pick out some things for himself. Not to mention I was going to have a heart attack if I saw him prancing around the house in my shirts again. Which arguably wasn't a bad thing (and he did it on purpose), but I was feeling guilty about it all. He picked out a variety I wasn't quite prepared for- from more suggestive to something comfy, but he did seem to be having the time of his life. He wanted to show me everything he tried on, and by the time he made his final selections, it was time for dinner.

We decided to detour to get him a good haircut first; his hair was much longer now, and my poor skills at cutting were not going to do him any favors. He didn't quite know what to do with it, but opted for having it short on the sides and long on the top. He looked terribly cute.

We went out to dinner, where Thomas spent most of the time talking to me about how much fun he'd been having. He was still full of energy afterwards, and I was drug around from store to store, eventually getting ice cream, letting him play with some dogs, and finally heading home.

 

\--

We were both terribly tired when we got home, but I had work to tend to. Thomas was lucky he could go to sleep! I was folding all of his new clothes when I felt a pillow hit me in the back of the head, followed by muffled laughter. I scooped the pillow up and threw it back at him.

Luckily, the exhaustion seemed to be hitting him by the time we got home. I had work to tend to, and there was no way I had the energy to get him to wind down for bed. I was folding his new clothes to put them away when I was hit in the back of the head with a pillow. I threw it back at him, shaking my head.

"Thomas."

He sat up, hugging the pillow and giving me a pleading look. "....Why can't you just come to bed with me? Come on... work can wait!"

"Thomas.....I told you. I want to, but I have to look over some emails and paperwork. Paul's going to kill me if I don't do anything. I have every intention of making this as quick as possible, love."

That seemed to do the trick, his lips turning up in a smile at 'love', and he admitted defeat.

"Edd?"

"Yes Tom?"

"I really....Uhm. Well. Thank you. I had.... fun today."

".....Of course. I had fun too. Goodnight."

"Night."

\--

I couldn't keep a smile off my face as I turned the lights off, shutting the bedroom door on the way out. I descended the stairs, letting out a small sigh. It was tempting to ignore any of the reports and emails that were loading my inbox, but I was planning on meeting up with Paul in the morning. I was already going to have to fight him about my sleeping with Tom (the hickeys he left were far too high on my neck for my coat to hide) and I didn't want to fight him on me dodging work.

Here's to another night of sitting in the-

 

I opened my mouth to yell at the sight of the man calmly standing in my kitchen, taking a slow drag of a cigar. A cup of coffee was sitting across from him; for me, an invitation. His voice was low, smooth, and sent a chill down my spine.

"Hello, Edward. I wouldn't yell if I were you. We wouldn't want to wake Thomas now, would we?"

 

Tord.


	15. Wrecking Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14- Wrecking Ball 
> 
> Past

>>Tord's POV<<

How much could one person (a quite small one, I might add) cry?

Too damn much.

It was quite pitiful. Honestly, the boy was going to dehydrate himself. The screaming stopped eventually, which was good for him, because all he was achieved was a sore throat. With time, I'm sure Thomas will learn that the swiftest way to pleasure is obedience. Until then, however, I'd just have to do my best to steer him in the right direction.

I find that people are much more malleable and susceptible to suggestion when a whip is involved. Or whenever I'm involved, really. I suppose I had that effect on people. His face when it first was involved was disbelief. I don't think he thought I would go through with it at first. But oh, how he wailed. I was careful- I didn't want to damage him too much (not that pretty pale skin)- but despite my benevolence, he still acted as if I was so terribly brutal. My poor boy has been coddled too much!

I'd been strategically planning my visits with dear Thomas. He'd fear me, yes, but he'd learn how much he needs me. I could be cruel, but I could be just as kind if he behaved. Unwavering compliance was all I would accept. He'd already started to look forward to seeing me, doing just about whatever he thought would please me in the moment. Thought it wasn't without struggle on his end. The anger, pain, confusion, betrayal, need- it was quite a fascinating experience to observe, watching him fight against himself. He knew he should hate me, but I was all he had. I am his pain and pleasure. I am his God.

I mulled over my next plan for Thomas over a cigar when the sound of the doorbell shattered my thoughts. I had to force the scowl off of my face as I went to the door; uninvited guests were the worst.

 

>>Edd's POV<<

 

I shuffled on my feet outside of the extravagant house, looking up quickly from my phone when the door swung open.

"Hello Mr. Lareson, I'm Edward Goode with the police department, would you mind if I asked you--"

"I don't mind at all, Edward. You may call me Tord. Please, come in."

Alright, well fuck me then. I stepped into his home, and followed him into a front room. He seated himself in an armchair, gesturing for me to take a seat across from him. 

There were so many things wrong with this situation. The way he said my name made my skin crawl. It wasn't offhand- it was deliberate; I **know** who you are. Cutting me off mid-sentence... what an egotistical bastard. And for fucks sake, who rests at home in a button-up and tie? His demeanor was unsettling, to say the least. His desire to control the situation- was it arrogance, or a move to keep the situation in his court? The house was just as unsettling- every room, every shelf displayed how methodical he was. I felt isolated; everything had a purpose and place here, except for me. 

Then what was my purpose, I wonder?

 

>>Tord's POV<<

 

I could tell Edd was uncomfortable.

I liked it when he was uncomfortable.

I kept a pleasant grin on my face- or what I felt was a pleasant grin, anyways. I knew people felt off kilter around me. It seemed no matter how I oriented myself, my behavior always unnerved those around me. Though I didn't mind it. It created so many interesting situations. The only downside was it didn't make one anonymous to people like Edward. But I didn't need to be forgettable to him when I was the one moving all of the pieces.

He visibly fought through his discomfort, clearing his throat slightly. "I'm just here to ask you a few questions about the recent murder of one of your secretaries, Johnathan Meyers?"

My face twisted into a frown as I feigned sadness. "Ah yes, I figured I'd be receiving a call." Not a fucking house visit. "I can't believe it. How they- _you_ , I suppose- found him? Hanging on those strings like that?" It took forever to string those together. 

"Er...yes, it was quite messy."

Messy? Everyone's a critic!

"I'm afraid I'm not sure who would do such a thing to dear John, if you're looking for leads" I sighed, working to contain my pleasure at watching him squirm in distaste with my nonchalant word choice.

"I just need to verify some information, Tord." There was some bite to the way he said my name, this time. It seems I was finally getting to him. 

_Play with me, Edward._

"Ask away." I lit a cigar, biting the inside of my mouth to keep myself from breaking into a wide grin. This was quite an inappropriate moment to do so, it would seem. 

"....If you wouldn't mind putting that out while were talking?"

"Oh, I would, but these are so very expensive you know-imported- I'm quite particular with my **things**. My apologies, Edward- I'll keep that in mind for the future."

Alright, I had to stop. It was so hard to not smile. So hard to keep my composure. I'd been looking forward to starting the game with Edd. Now, I didn't intend nor want it to be today, in my home, but toying with him was making it all so enjoyable. So worth it. He wanted to punch me, that much was clear. I took a drag of the cigar, not breaking eye contact from the man across from me.

"Last week, on Friday, Mr. Meyers stayed late at your office to finish some work you asked of him, correct?" That tone- he was angry now! "I've been told you stayed late that night as well."

"You're not suggesting I had something to do with his death, are you, Edward? John was a excellent worker." Not Quite. The only thing he was excellent at was fucking up. "I asked him to assist me with some work, yes. I left the office at about half past 11. He stayed behind to continue some work, which I'm sure can be verified by his personal logs on his computer. I have more than one person who can verify my location, if necessary." I gave him a sharp-toothed smile, playing with my cigar in my hand. I knew he didn't actually suspect me- he was just trying to rile me. I would never be so careless, so obvious. 

"That's not necessary, Tord. I'm not suggesting anything except perhaps you should appreciate those around you more." He rose, pulling his coat on. He must be bothered by how distant I seemed about the situation. Oh, and how I was trying to seem like I cared. Ah well, this works too. 

"If I offended you, Edward, I -"

A wail from the basement.

He paused, giving me a curious look. "...I thought you lived alone?"

I remained seated, heart fluttering in my chest. This was an unexpected turn. "I do, unless you count pets? I've purchased a puppy recently." I gave him a smile. "German Shepherd. Very expensive. Purebred. Unfortunately he's having a hard time with teething right now- I needed a break from babysitting him. He's crated downstairs- he just whines if he can see me and I'm not paying attention to him, you know? Oh how rude of me- would you like to meet him?"

He was already heading for the front door, too frustrated from my prodding and poking. "No, I'm quite alright. I'll have someone call you if I need more information. Have a good night, Tord."

The door damn near slammed shut, and I locked it, letting the wide smile show itself. Solidarity was so much more pleasing than company, but company did have its perks. I watched his car speed off from my drive way, chuckling to myself. Hot-headed Edward. Chased out of my house by my playing. Admittedly, the thrill of practically dangling Tom in front of him when he didn't even know the boy was missing was addictive. The boy who's mother came to him, desperately claiming her son was missing- the boy who Edward decided ran away. The boy who was in my basement because Edward made the wrong decision. 

Sometimes, poorly behaved dogs can be good after all.

\--

I descended the stairs, opening the door to Thomas's room. He launched forward, trembling hands grabbing at my legs. He was crying- again- and whimpering, stammering "please let me out" like it was a prayer. I pushed him away so I could get enough room to kneel down in front of him, causing him to fretfully let out a keening cry. He tried to come forward again, and I stopped him by gripping his chin tightly to look up at me. He was a mess. He hadn't been eating as much as I'd of liked, and his body was sporting bruises and cuts from his education. I was still disappointed in him...but he had made today so much more interesting. Perhaps I could let him out.

"If you're going to be a good dog, you can come upstairs with me."

He forced his way into my lap, burrowing his head against my neck, clinging onto me desperately. I enjoyed his quiet soft "thank you, thank you, thank you"s, petting his head lightly. 

"You're my good boy, aren't you, Thomas?"

A small whine, a defeated nod.

Progress.


	16. Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15- Body
> 
> Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry for not updating this in eons. Class is kicking my ass. I hope you enjoy?

>>Edd's POV<<

 

I couldn’t breathe. Seeing the man who I'd been chasing for years standing in my kitchen (uninvited) was a shell shock I wasn't prepared for. I mean, how could anyone prepare for Tord? My thoughts were smashing and jumbling together, a catastrophic train wreck that was terribly unhelpful for figuring out a game plan for this situation.

My eyes shifted towards the knife set on the counter.

"Don't", the voice cut through my thoughts; sharp, dangerous, and demanding my full attention. "Don't be boring, Edd. Please. I've waited much too long for this. Don't be so instinctual. Instincts are much more fitting of animals, don't you think? Show some thought. Some control."

He leaned against the counter, blowing smoke in my direction. His posture was relaxed, and from what I could see, he wasn't even armed. He had quite literally waltzed into my home and made me some fucking coffee while I was upstairs with Tom. My eyes drifted up to his face, and I met his own. His gaze held no answers. His expression was calm-calculating, and I could only grasp that he was mulling things over. It was like having a lion in your home. He was playing, he was having fun, and he had me exactly where he wanted me. What to do? What to do? My phone was charging upstairs. My gun... My gun?

"You left your gun on your nightstand, in case you were wondering." he mused, tilting his head at me slightly. He seemed to have been giving me a bit of time to process his intrusion, but his patience must have been wearing thin. He gestured at the island and the sweltering mug. "I made you a coffee. Don't be rude."

How did he know that? I mean- he was right- I did leave it upstairs with Thomas. I swallowed, remembering the real problem at hand which was Tom. I was out of options, at least for the moment, and I numbly moved forward, pulling the mug in my hands. The familiar warmth wasn't comforting, not right now. But I would admit that it was nice to have something in my hands to distract myself with. I attempted to shove away the thought that reminded me that the coffee was a perfect temperature. He knew when I was going to be down here, exactly enough to time this. "How...No. Why?"

A smirk finally tugged at the corner of his lips, and he broke out into a full grin, sharp canines bared at me in a mock of a smile. "Come now, Edd. We haven't seen each other in so long, and the first thing you want to do is to interrogate me on why I'm here? Is this how you treat an old friend?"

"You are not my friend." I snapped, struggling to recover my composure. My knuckles were white from how tightly I gripped the mug. He seemed slightly amused and partially irritated that I cut him off.

"Harsh words." he hummed, rolling the cigar in between two of his fingers absentmindedly. "Since you're not being very conversational, I suppose we can skip to the point. I'm here to get my puppy back. I really appreciate you watching him for me, though. You've been a great pet sitter. How much do I owe you?" He leaned forward, towering frame now about two feet from me and separated only by my kitchen island. He was clearly enjoying the anger he was stirring inside of me, studying my face as he spoke. He punctuated his question by blowing smoke in my face, and I struggled to force myself to avoid a reaction. I'd already given him too much satisfaction; he'd love watching me choke on the disgusting smoke. Another stupid fucking power move.

"You're not taking Thomas from this house." My voice was hoarse. It was all I could manage. As much as I was trying to have a steely resolve, as much as I was trying to gain some sort of control of the situation, I couldn't. Hell, I didn't even believe my own words.

"We both know thats not true." He countered, voice dangerously soft. "You might have thrown me off once before, when I had to leave him behind. But you knew this was going to happen, Edward. You knew I was going to come back for him the minute you found him. And you know what? Whether you'd like to accept it or not, we both know that I've been watching you. That I've been watching all of your lovely progress as you desperately try to "fix" Thomas. But...there's nothing wrong with him, Edward. There's not a single thing wrong with that boy. He's exactly how he's supposed to be. He's fulfilling the design he was intended for. You can try to "fix" him to enable your little fantasy, to make yourself feel better for failing him over and over a few years ago, but you cannot change what he's destined to be."

I felt like I was free falling off of a cliff. Like I was scrabbling for anything to hold onto, but there wasn't a single thing to get purchase with. What options did I have at this moment? He was probably armed. He at the very least had the upper hand, even though we were in my own home. Every single time he opened his mouth, I lost more control of the situation. I wasn't even sure I had any at all anymore. I was so fucking thrown off, nothing seemed worth it. What was I supposed to do? Fight him? I could try, but what about Tom? And with what would I even attack him with? We had to be quiet- I didn't want Tom to know Tord was here. He couldn't see Tord. I couldn't let that happen.

"Leave him alone, Tord. You can kill me, just-"

He broke into a laugh, crushing the lit cigar out on my counter with a slight thud from the impact of his hand against the granite. His laugh sent chills down my spine. I'd heard that laugh more often than I'd ever admit in my nightmares. I'm sure Thomas did, too.

"Edd, oh, Edd, I don't give a damn about you. You're fun to toy with-that's it. Your life is worthless compared to Thomas. Nothing you can barter to me right now is going to convince me to leave this house tonight without him."

I was out of options then. I moved quickly, and heard the cup shatter on the floor. I moved over the island, aiming to knock him backwards. If I could get him unbalanced for a second, that would be just enough for me to grab one of the knives--

He seemed to be anticipating an outburst, and intercepted me. His foot met my stomach, and I was kicked backwards, slamming into the cabinets and counter across the kitchen. I let out a sharp grunt of pain, trying to right myself before he could land another hit. He moved swiftly towards me, but halted in his tracks. The sound of a door opening, soft feet, a voice calling from the top of the stairs: "Edd? Are you okay?" Both of our heads jerked towards the voice.

Tom had to get out of here. I let out a yell.

"Thomas--"

 

Blinding pain.

 

Everything seemed to slow. Things, at the very least, were not moving correctly. There was a searing pain in my gut. It wasn't quite like anything I'd felt before. What happened? What happened? Nothing had moved, had it? Something was holding me upright; and then I processed Tord's body against mine, his hand lingering on my throat.

A low voice rang in my ear, soft, surprisingly soothing, and all around, disappointed. "It didn't have to go like this", Tord murmured, pushing me backwards and letting go.

Unable to support myself, I fell and hit the floor. In my mind, I didn't cease falling. The room was spinning, and I couldn't right myself. Why did everything hurt so much? Why was my shirt wet?

 

It finally registered that Tord had stabbed me.

 

I heard feet coming down the stairs.

_No._

I heard Tord's voice coo "Thomas".

_No._

I heard Thomas screaming.

_No._

Why couldn't I move?

The floor was so wet.

Was this what it felt like to die?

I was going to die, here, on my floor. I was going to die a failure. I let Thomas down. I couldn't protect him. I told him I would. I told him I would never let anything hurt him again.

Honestly, I deserved this.

But he didn't.

God, he didn't.

 

_No._


	17. It's Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16 - It's Alright
> 
> Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for slow uploads! I hope all is well for you all. So glad you guys have been enjoying this.

>>Tord's POV<<

I hopped lightly up my steps, a scowl on my face as I undid the front door's lock. Things were... not going quite according to plan. I know I shouldn't be, but I've been spending most of my time focused on Thomas. His training had been going beautifully, and I couldn't help but feel intoxicated by him. His pretty blue eyes, his quiet voice, his thin wrists, pale skin, the way his body arched underneath mine- I was already getting fucking distracted.

I swung the door shut behind me, mulling over my most recent obstacle: Edward. He had been on my trail, much too close for comfort. I'm not really sure what I was doing that had tipped him off; but he wasn't close to figuring out it was me. He was going to have to be d--

Thomas's head poked around the corner, and I felt a stirring in my stomach. His face lit up and he scrambled towards me, only wearing a leather collar and one of my button ups.

"Tord!" he yipped, nudging his head into my outstretched hand, eyes closing in pleasure at my petting.

"There's my good boy." I cooed, straightening myself as I headed into the kitchen, abandoning my keys and other belongings. Tom was an ever-present distraction, sitting at my feet diligently and peering up at me, waiting for more attention. He was always terribly clingy when I arrived home, begging and pawing. It couldn't be helped; puppies were hard work.

 

>>Tom’s POV<<

 

Tord was in a better mood these days. I’m not sure what it was exactly, but I was happy for it. When Tord was in a good mood, I was in a good mood. He liked it when I was a good boy. He especially liked that I started to initiate sex.

It was really boring in the house when Tord wasn’t there. He was gone mostly only during the week, but the days dragged on and seemed to last forever. I was always practically prancing around his feet when he got home, begging for all of the attention he would be willing to give me.

Bu as long as I knew Tord loved me, I could put up with the dull stretches of time. Tord was all I had. Tord was all that mattered.

And so I was as good of a dog as I could be for him. I’d thought once or twice about asking for more freedom, or something more to do, but I’d decided that that was likely a bad idea. He had not hurt me in a long time, but memories of beatings still lingered. Not that it was unwarranted. It was my fault. I was being stupid. I was being a bad dog. I no longer tried to do something that Tord hadn’t told me I could do. I didn’t forget the rules anymore. I didn’t say no anymore when he pinned me down on the mattress. I knew that even though I had to do things I didn’t want to, that it was all okay, because Tord was just taking care of me. That’s what you do for people you love. And he was the only one who loved me.

If Tord didn’t love me, no one else would.

I still got nervous when he became angry, but it was not usually directed at me. He tended to notice my fear, and would take care of me until I wasn’t scared anymore. These times were few and far between, as he wasn’t angry around me often unless it was my fault. When he was around me, he was usually paying attention to me somehow. I liked that.

“Thomas”. His voice cut through my thoughts, and I perked up, looking around towards his voice. He set my bowl on the floor, and went back to preparing his own meal, and I scrambled forward. I didn’t take much time to situate myself so I was comfortable before I was scarfing down the food. I had enough to eat… sort of. I was hungry a lot, and something in the back of my mind thought maybe it was because Master liked watching me get so excited about food that he didn’t give me so much that I was full all of the time. But that was silly; Master knows whats best, and he’s just taking care of me. I always begged him for his food anyways, and he seemed content to feed me scraps.

During the nights, he was spending more and more time on his laptop and digging through his book. We lay tangled in the sheets, the little black book spilling torn pages out onto the covers, and Tord engrossed in his typing. I lay curled against his chest, soaking up the occasional petting, but mostly just enjoying being touched. I glanced at the screen, curiously looking at the picture of a man. He seemed familiar. I saw the name “Edward”. Tord had talked about him before. There were other notes. An address, some dates, some hours, locations, objects-

“Is something wrong, Thomas?” His chest rumbled with his voice, and I stole a quick look up at him. I couldn’t meet his steely gaze for more than a moment, and I felt like I had seen something I wasn’t supposed to. This wasn’t for me. This wasn’t for dogs.

“No Master!” I quickly yipped, nuzzling my head into his neck and averting my gaze from the screen. A hand absentmindedly played with my hair, and I relaxed into him.

Why didn’t he like it when I was interested in his work?

 

\---

 

Tord was angry more often than not recently. Was this my fault? What did I do wrong? Why didn’t he want to be around me anymore? Was he too busy for me? I wish he would just tell me what I did wrong so I could fix it. I wish he would just punish me- but not like this. This was a different kind of hurt. I was finding it hard to eat, hard to sleep. I felt like he was going through the motions of taking care of me; he didn’t spend time playing with me anymore. He didn’t pet me much. He just made sure he filled my bowl and spent his time home locked in his office. I laid outside his office door on the floor, but he just stepped over me and went about his day when he’d come out. He even started locking me up with a chain when he left during the day.

 

What did I do that was so bad?

 

I cried most of the time I was alone. I was bad. I was a bad dog and Tord didn’t want me anymore. Nobody loved me anymore.

 

I was trying to hard to be so good. He didn’t seem to notice. He probably didn’t care. By the time I found the courage to talk to him, the depression of the situation swallowed my words whole. I couldn’t find it in me to ask why he was doing this.

 

He was moving things around, moving bags out of the house. Where were we going?

 

He was taking his important things; I was going too, right? I was important?

 

I was sitting on the bed, the chain attached to my collar and jingling around my neck as I panicked and watched him move about our bedroom, piling things by the door. He paused when I couldn’t hold back my whimpers anymore, and he finally looked at me. Looked. Saw. Didn’t look at me while thinking about something else. He pet my hair, hesitantly returning my hug as I clung onto him.

 

 

“…Thomas. I have to go now, but-“

“What did I do wrong?” I burst out, unable to keep my tears back any longer. “What did I do bad, Master? Please don’t leave me! Please! I’m sorry! I’ll do whatever you want me to! Why don’t you want me anymore? You promised me you’d always want me!” I sobbed, tightening my grip.

“Thomas. Thomas.” He hushed, sitting on the bed and pulling me onto his lap. “Quiet down, love. It's alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. I still want you; I’ve always wanted you. I would never break my promise to my perfect boy.” He was petting me, and the words he spoke were miracles.

 

Then why did my chest still hurt?

 

“I don’t want to leave you, darling. I know you don’t understand, but I will be back. I’m not sure how long, but I swear to you we won’t be apart for too long. I’m sorry I haven’t had much time for you; trust me, when we’re together again, I’ll never leave you.” He set me back on the bed, running a hand gently down my face, before heading for the door. “…..Be good, Thomas.  I love you.”

 

I was straining against the chain. Wailing.

_Tord._

Why can’t I come with you?

_Tord._

When can I see you again?

_Tord._

Please don’t leave me.

_Tord._

 

\------

 

>>Edd's POV<<

  
His home had been taped off and ready to investigate. It was scheduled to happen tomorrow; we'd been through hell and back trying to scrape together where he'd fled off to, so we'd pushed it back. I wasn't planning on making anyone come out here until then, but some kind old lady insisted she could not sleep knowing that "that poor dog is over there trapped and probably hungry."

  
I wished I could've just accepted the fact that the dog didn't exist. It couldn't have. I didn't want it to. I didn't want to go into the house.

 

_But some things had to be done, even when we didn’t want to do them._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it all comes full circle.... only present-day updates from here on out!


	18. Get Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17 - Get up
> 
> Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, so so sorry for slow updates and short chapter! Life is super busy and sometimes inspiration is hard to come by. Thank you for the lovely comments! I really appreciate it!

>> Tord's POV<<

In my line of work, it was so horribly irritating for things to not go according to plan. I spent so much time making sure that each detail, down to the second, was mapped out and prepared properly. The colors, the time, the place, the person, composition- and I suppose my "other" job- the corporation- had some importance with details as well. But I had to admit, things going wrong, at this point, was welcome.

When you always had all of the pieces in your hands (whether they knew it or not), nothing could get your blood fucking rushing. The high was lower. The euphoria lacked a certain emphasis it had all those years ago, when I began. Being in total, utter control had its downfall. One would think that this was the goal. That I had reached my prime, the apex of my craft. I was, what some might call, "a control freak", after all. But I was perfection. And how was I supposed to continue to prove just how unsurpassed, how dominant I was in this world without destroying opposition? Perfection could get boring; I needed a challenge. 

It was true that, for a moment, Edward had gotten things tangled up for me. From finding out my identity to making me have to abandon my property... and losing my home as well. However, finally having another player in the game was thrilling. I finally had a partner to move my pieces against. To read, to learn about, to conquer. I suppose for this precious moment of light, this rush, I should thank him. However, he clearly wasn't good enough, or else he wouldn't be bleeding out on his hardwood floors. It was fun playing, Edward, but it was time to get everything back into it's proper place. To be in total control again.

I had only one last loose thread to handle before this situation could be wrapped up neatly. 

My dear, Thomas. My poor, poor puppy. 

The moment I heard him descend the stairs, I called out to him. "Thomas!" Oh, the joy of hearing his name pass my lips. I turned to greet him, and for a brief moment, lost my breath. The look of horror in those baby blues was ecstasy. A wave of pleasure rolled down my spine, and there was a sharp keening feeling in my chest. It had been so long since I'd seen that sort of fear in his eyes. The look in the eyes of a rabbit who wandered too far from the burrow. A fawn who no longer had anyone to protect him. The acknowledgement of approaching death- yet the panic to drive oneself to survive. Oh, how dearly he wanted to survive. 

His gaze fell to the front door, as I swiftly moved towards him, unable to keep the excitement from washing over me. I saw the realization flicker in his eyes that he couldn't make it to the door faster than I could make it to him. Fight or flight, Thomas? Which will it be?

He bolted. He was screaming, now. Oh, how he screamed. He tripped up the stairs more than once, body betraying itself in his sheer terror. I was only steps behind him, unable to keep the smile off of my face as I watched him. All this time of suffering, of planning, of being without him, was worth it. I wanted to take my time with this- to savor it, to bask in my triumph- but unfortunately, I could not. Edward's last indecency- living in a neighborhood. They would hear his screaming, and once they realized it was an emergency, would call for help. I had approximately 5 minutes to enjoy.

He ran down the hall, sobbing, and bust through the first open door there was. The bedroom, it seemed, from the quick second I got to see inside of it before the door slammed shut; or, at the least, he tried to hold it shut. He was always so small, over the years. Now was no exception. He didn't have a chance to keep it closed against my strength. It was almost too easy to thrust it open. He fell backwards from the force of it, letting out a yelp of pain as he hit the floor. His hand frantically grabbed for whatever it could, and he threw it at me- a hardback book - a remote - I kept advancing. He was halfway under the bed when my hand closed around his leg, dragging him out from beneath it. He clutched desperately onto the frame, a mantra of "no's" spilling from his mouth. How fitting it was for us to meet once more, intimately, in the bedroom, where I had abandoned him last. He was crying then, too. But for different reasons. 

I forcefully hauled him backwards, and his grip slipped from the frame. I reached down, gripping the nape of his neck, and throwing him into the wall. The wind was knocked from him, and it was easier for me to get a firm grip on his throat, pinning him with my body weight. He was cowering, flattening himself against the wall as much as he could, desperate, beautiful begging ringing in my ears.

"To-Tord! Please! Please, no! No! Tord, don't! I don't wa-want!" I closed his air off, briefly, watching with excitement the range of emotions in his eyes. I ran my free hand over his body, hand lingering on his groin, groping at him slightly. He wasn't interested; no matter, he would be later. I didn't have time to play. I shifted my grip to his hair, and began to drag him out of the room, and down the hall. He was still gagging and struggling for air, but that was only a few precious moments of no resistance. He began to grab and claw at my hands, trying to punch my body as I picked him up at the bottom of the stairs. I half carried-half drug him to the kitchen, snatching up Edd's keys. 

I thought he was screaming before. Once he saw Edd lying on the floor, you'd of thought I was cutting him into pieces. I almost regretted not doing it sooner. Oh, god, how his voice trembled! The beautiful, twisted tones in his wailing. He was so effortlessly perfect. He was so perfect for me. And he was all mine! Worth every single moment of trouble he'd caused. Worth every single moment of hunting I did. The sight of Edd's body seemed to break him. He wasn't struggling as much anymore, just crying and screaming. It was relatively easy now for me to get us to the car, and I had déjà vu as I thrust him into the back seat. The pleasure was back again in full force, tingling straight to my cock. 

What a prize he was. What a lovely reward for getting everything back into the place it belonged. 

I took off, not wasting a moment of distancing us from the house. It was easy when you had a police car; sirens or not. He was crumbled in the back seat, having what I could only describe as a panic attack. Poor thing was going to wear himself out, and we had just gotten back together!

"Thomas?" I cooed, flashing him a grin in the rear view mirror. "Settle down now, why don't you? We're together again, my love! I told you I would come back for you. Remember how upset you were then? You'll get over this." 

His arms were wrapped tightly around himself, and he finally looked back up at me. There was rage underlying the fear, the horror, in his voice and his eyes. "You.. You killed him!" He shrieked at me, looking back down at the floor.

"Yes, I did." I hummed, glancing back at the road. "Well, just about. He wasn't quite there when we left, but he will be in a few moments." I received no answer except for a tiny, choked sob. 

"....Ah, this reminds me of the night we met. Do you remember that night, Thomas? The night you sat on my lap, little pup? You were so feisty then. You were so happy to finally come home with me, even if you didn't know it then- even if you don't know it now. You will. Don't you realize how lucky we both are, being able to relieve this? It was so hard to pass up the opportunity of making you scream like this, the first time. I wanted to take you then like this; show everyone in that bar who it is you belong to. But it was for the best then, that we went home quietly. I was still disappointed. But now! Now I get both." 

"Now, now, stop crying. We're going to be together, just you and I. I won't leave you again, I swear it. You won't have to worry ever again."

"This is a night to celebrate, precious."


	19. O My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18- O My Heart
> 
> Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm Ace and I'm a broken record- apologies for the slow down. Finals are coming up in Uni and I am SWAMPED! Either way, I'm hoping to update a bit more frequently. Apologies for a short one- hope you all enjoy!

>> Edd's POV<<

 

_One, two, three, four._

Thomas was screaming.

Thomas.

Thomas?

Why was he screaming?

_One, two, three, four._

Everything felt sideways. My stomach and my- oh. Tord.

Tord. That’s why Thomas was screaming. I needed to get up, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. Breathing was hard. The floor was wet. Wet. Wet? _One, two_. That was blood. _Three, four_. **My** blood.

There was so much of it on the floor. “ _The human body has 5.5 liters of blood!_ ”, I recited to myself, cold, sterile, scientific. Trying to distance myself from it, because my blood was all over the floor, and I was going to die. I was dying, wasn’t I? Was I going to die here? I’m going into shock, aren’t I?

Who’s going to look after… Thomas.

 

Focus, Edward.

 

_One._

What was that sound, thudding in my ears? Was someone walking around? It was hard to hear much of anything else. Just the steady thumping-

_Two, three, four, one two three-_

I took in a sharp gasp of breath.

The sun felt warm on my skin, a gentle breeze drifting through the yard, rustling the leaves of the oak that rested by the fence. There was the strong scent of soil- my mother was calling for me- oh, right, it was time to plant the flowers-

But we couldn’t do that in the rain- it smelled like grass and worms and mud and- god, I was wet. I was wet. The umbrella must have not been working, I- people were crying. I was crying. Why were we crying? I remember now- my partner. The casket. We stood around his grave, watching them lower it into the earth. He’d been shot while we were investigating a domestic violence report. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. He had so much to live for. His badge was resting on the gravestone. I reached out to touch, and I felt-

The warm, bristly fur between my fingers. Bing, dancing around my feet with his big paws, tail wagging, hitting the cabinets as I grabbed him a treat from the jar on the counter top. I thought having him would help me get over the feeling of loss that clung to my heart, now that my partner was gone and I had been promoted. Now that I was so much more alone. But I couldn’t focus on how that made me feel. I had things to accomplish. God, I had so much to do today, if only I had woken up earlier-

 

Wake up.

 

**_Wake up._ **

 

 _One, two, three, four, one, two-_ the noise again, faster than before, faster than ever, _three four, one-_

The kitchen was bathed in red and blue lights, shining in from outside. There was thudding on the front door, someone was yelling- they were going to wake up Thomas; I needed to go wake up Thomas. It was about that time, wasn’t it?

It sounded like the door had been kicked open. Paul rushed in, weapon drawn, shouting a weary “clear” before whipping around and rushing to my side. I didn’t know Paul was coming over, today- I should make more coffee-

My coffee was going to get cold.

 _Two_.

 

Strangers rushed around me, asking me questions, putting pressure on my abdomen- that fucking hurt- God, I was so tired.

 

_Three._

 

“I’m losing a pulse”

 

What a funny thing for them to say. I was fine.

 

 

_Four._

 

 

The noise was going away.

 

 

I could sleep, now.

 

 

It was funny how things sometimes just…

 

 

 

 

Stop.


	20. Baby Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 19 - Baby Boy
> 
> Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Back at it again with this story. Thank you guys for hanging in there. Only a few more chapters left! :) 
> 
> Please heed the tags on this one- its more graphic/aggressive than previous chapters. [Tom/Tord]

>> Tom's POV<<

I didn't know where we were anymore. I hadn't been cooperative with Tord- I only remembered his hands around my throat, and then the world slipping away. By the time I woke, we were in a different car, and my hands and legs were bound. I was gagged, which was new- maybe I had been screaming at him. I don't remember. 

I only knew that Edd was dead, and it was entirely my fault. 

My throat was dry, and my hands numb. I felt like I couldn't cry more than I already had, and I barely managed ragged breaths around the gag. My body was so, so tired. Time dragged on around me as one thought occupied my mind-

I wish I'd of told Edd I loved him. 

When I thought about it, I never had. I never told him how much he meant to me, and how much I wanted to spend my life with him. How my heart skipped in my chest when I saw him, and my how mind stopped racing, my past stopped hurting. How I was astonished that he wanted to help me put myself back together, and was willing to deal with the panic attacks and the confusion. How he would tell me that sometimes we all got scared and messed up and that it was okay. How he did whatever he could to adjust my surroundings and my life to be more comfortable for me. 

How it felt to be loved. 

The memories and my regrets screamed in my head until I felt like static. My chest hurt. I was going to die with Tord, and I shouldn't of ever let anyone take me away from him. I came into Edd's life, and ruined it. My happiness and my comfort don't matter. That's not what I was here for. That was clear now. Striving for my desires got good people killed. I was always meant to suffer. My dad used to always tell me that I couldn't bring a stray cat indoors; it didn't belong there, and no matter how hard I tried to make it fit, it wouldn't- it would end up on the streets again; it was dirty and that was just its nature. I think I understand him now. 

Maybe this is what he actually meant. 

\--

We moved so much, I couldn't keep track of it anymore. We were in and out of cars, and most of the time, I just sleepily drank or ate whatever he pushed into my face. I had a hard time registering movements, even my own, and struggled with how time was passing. I foggily recalled watching him put pills in my water, but I couldn't be bothered to care. Maybe it would kill me, or I could forget what I did to Edd. The gag had been removed, but I was always loosely bound. I was in the back seats most of the time, but more than once I found myself on the floor or huddled in the passenger seat. Often while we drove, and my whole world lulled and rocked, his hand would find my hair. He'd pet and tug, cooing that just sounded like slurred words to my ears. This was my existence, now, and I barely felt like I was existing. 

At the moment, I was curled up against the passenger window. Tord didn't seem to care, and didn't pay me any attention, even as I groaned softly and shifted. My eyes focused (albeit badly) to reveal....just trees. Trees and trees and trees. Mountains. The rocky road we were on was the only touch of civilization I could see. There wasn't another harsh light blinding my vision from headlights in the distance. We seemed to be very, very alone. 

I slipped back into darkness. 

\--

 

>> Tord's POV<<

Thomas was quite adorable like this. I liked him best bound, gagged, and compliant. Shame I had to drug him to achieve this, but that wouldn't be the truth for much longer. We just had such a long trip ahead of us from Edward's house- it wasn't feasible to drag him along the whole way unwillingly. It was a nightmare enough crossing places with heavy police surveillance, especially when my face was quite wanted. 

But now. Now, we were here, and I could start reclaiming what was mine. 

I parked in the garage, unable to keep a smile off of my face as I slid from my seat. I closed the door behind me, and stepped to the passenger side, popping the door open. I had to damn near catch the poor puppy, who was still very delusional from the drugs and the road trip, practically falling out of the car when I took away the support of the door. I scooped Thomas up easily into my arms- he always was so small compared to me. I only had to use one arm to keep him held against my chest, and the other to shut and lock the car door. I fiddled with the key in the door, pushing the door open and stepping inside the house. The alarm beeped, causing Tom to stir against me, and I chuckled as I tapped in the pass code to disarm it. 

"We're home", I teased, tossing 'my' keys on the kitchen counter to my right. The house was just as I'd wanted it to be for Tom. Perfect. He wasn't going to be awake enough until the morning for me to make any progress with him, but it would give me enough time to tie up some loose ends. I swiftly carried him upstairs, navigating to the guest bedroom, and laid him on the bed. I hummed to myself slightly as I undid his restraints, letting him rest while I spent about half an hour getting the room prepared. I left him tied down to the bed, spread open, and couldn't resist adding the extra touch of a new, light blue collar. I made sure he was very much stuck, before brushing the hair from his face, amused at his sleepy mumbles, and left him for the night, descending the stairs. 

The house was just my taste. Dark hardwood floors, beautiful quartz counters, open-concept (easier to keep an eye on a curious dog), with more than enough rooms to accommodate my needs. The most important factor, however? The remote location. We were, quite literally, the only home for miles on end, in a private fenced location. We had the lovely view of the surrounding forest, stretching into the horizon, covering harsh mountain ranges. Thomas, even if he managed to be a resistant little problem (which I doubted), was going nowhere. 

Mr. Spring had certainly outdone himself with this one. It was a shame for him that he was such a loner- it really did cost him. He was, without a doubt, resting in the stomach of a bear by now. He had been a surprisingly simple man, and it didn't take me long before our trip to locate him as a perfect target. Rich, remote, reclusive, easy to make him "disappear". The few people he did keep in infrequent contact with were at the moment very positive that dear Mr. Spring was currently traveling abroad. He would not be returning long before Thomas and I would be gone. No one would be looking for a man who was- supposedly-not missing. Honestly, they probably would not note his absence even months past his "scheduled return"; quite a pitiful end, if you ask me. 

For such a rich man, you'd of thought he'd put more care into protecting himself online. It wasn't difficult to figure out the information I needed to arrange this, and from there, guessing passwords and investigating was easy enough to glaze over. Picking him and his life apart enough to take his identity, have him...removed, and set the rest of my plan in motion was the least of my worries in the quest that was recovering Thomas. 

Mr. Spring was able to provide a secure and comfortable place for Thomas and I to stay until I arranged our big move out of the country. So, in the end, his life was not entirely useless. 

 

\-------------

>> Tom's POV<<

I woke up to the alarming feeling of a body on top of mine, and a hand working itself against my cock. I let out a startled yelp, squirming to pull away as my mind raced to catch up with reality. I was still dizzy and woozy from the drugs, but quite much more awake. In my efforts, I quickly realized that my hands and legs were straining against handcuffs, and I was, very effectively held down to a bed. I let out a sound of panic, and I heard a low rumble of a laugh. My focus jerked to the man on top of me. I tried to thrash against him, letting out a yell that was quickly silenced by Tord thrusting a gag into my mouth. 

He looked at me for just a moment, cold and calculating before shifting his position, moving on his knees to push his dick into my mouth. The gag kept my mouth held open, taking away my ability to bite or refuse him. Tears sprang into my eyes, and I choked around his cock, futility struggling. I wanted to curl in on myself. I wanted everything to stop existing. I wanted to stop existing. I wanted to focus on anything but his hand holding my head in place while he thrust into my throat. I didn't want to hear the words he was speaking. I didn't want to live through this. Not again. Not again. 

Why was he doing this? 

Why didn't he just kill me?

 

I squeezed my eyes shut, gagging on his cock and feeling my stomach heave in protest. He paid no heed to my clear panic and revulsion, and sped up before slamming himself forwards, burying himself in my throat before cumming. He held himself there for a moment, catching his breath before he pulled back. He didn't move off of me completely. He simply stared, seemingly admiring his "work", my tear and spit stained face, before running a finger across my lips. His expression was unreadable. He didn't seem angry, but he didn't seem satisfied. It was like staring into a dark and empty room, and I felt like I was being swallowed by their coldness. I was shaking, tremors racking my body as I sobbed around the gag, and I resorted to once more shutting my eyes. It was a tiny bit easier if I didn't look. 

He moved and I flinched. Tord leaned over me, his hands roughly pulling at my chest as his lips ghosted across my ear. His voice was low and rumbling. "I wouldn't have to do this to you if you behaved. If you listened to me, for once. If you accepted just what you are." he hissed, before moving backwards. He pulled the gag off, and I tried to form words, but a string of sobbing pleads was all that fell from my lips. I wanted to do anything to make him stop. I wanted to beg him, tell him I was sorry, that he was right, that I would do anything if he just please stopped hurting me. Instead, his mouth found mine and he was harshly biting at my lips, and dominating the "kiss" he began. I wanted to throw up but I couldn't. I felt like my whole body was stuttering. Like I wasn't registering what was happening, but at the same time, was experiencing it in painfully slow detail, and re-running every second over and over. 

I just want to die. I just want this to stop. He pulled away from my mouth, and moved his attention elsewhere abruptly, pushing a finger inside of me after taking a minor moment to grab the lube on the nightstand. I began to scream, and quickly settled for begging.

"G-God please don't- Tord! Please! Please don't! Please don't do this to me! I..I'm sorry! I'll be good! I promise! I swear! Tord! No!" 

He leaned forward, working another finger in as he studied me, not a hint of regret in his demeanor. "You will be good, Thomas. I'll make sure of it. You don't need to worry, now. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything you need so that you're a good dog." 

He worked three fingers in before eventually pausing, and my body sagged in relief for a moment. For that tiny, precious moment, I had a glimmer of hope in my belly that he'd stop. That he'd leave me alone. That he'd thought I was broken enough. I was. 

I was. 

 

Instead, he opened the lube once more, rubbing himself, before he lined himself up with me and shoved himself inside with little warning. 

I screamed. 

He braced himself with one arm against the headboard, thrusting into me with an increasing pace. I struggled against my restraints with a newfound panic, throat raw as I wailed. "Tord! Please! H-hurts! You're hurting me! Please stop! Tord!"

His hand connected with my face, hard and stinging. His fucking and the shock forced the air from my lungs.

"Shut UP Thomas, you're making it hard to enjoy this with your screeching." He hissed, picking up his pace as he let out a groan of pleasure. He'd become aggressive, and I was terrified he was never going to stop. Disassociating seemingly wasn't cutting it anymore. I needed to run. I needed to get out. 

I tried to close my eyes again, but I could could hear him slapping against me, his skin against mine. I could feel every brutal shove, the tightening grip of his hand on my throat, grabbing at me with bruising pressure. I clawed at my restraints with gasps and whimpers, though I knew it wouldn't get me anywhere. I couldn't stop crying, and it was incredibly hard to catch my breath with the pace he'd set. 

Unexpectedly, one hand moved down to my cock, and he worked me up into an erection despite the difficulty. Regardless of the situation, my body was responding to the stimulation, and I managed to come into his hand, to which he shortly finished after, ramming into me. 

"You feel so good, Tom." He groaned, resting a moment after coming before pulling himself out. He finally released my throat, looking down at me. 

"You love me, don't you?"

The question caught me off guard. No. I don't love you. I love Edd. Loved Edd. I loved Edd and he was gone and you're a monster. I don't-- 

My pause was long enough for him to get a dangerous look in his eyes, and I nodded quickly, babbling "yes" over and over. 

He undid my restraints, but hauled me by my collar, shoving me into the bathroom connected to the room we were in. "Clean yourself up. You're a mess." He snapped, slamming the door behind himself. I jerked, pulling myself as far away from the door as I could. I grabbed mindlessly at a towel hanging on the wall, dragging it down from the rack and clinging to it. I was just wailing now, sobbing into the towel, and I couldn't do much more than crawl into the corner and cry. 

What was the point of living, anymore?

I don't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry ;__;


End file.
